Passing Time
by Itsembarrassing
Summary: A story about the ultimate sacrifice. All rights to TG and the BBC.
1. Chapter 1

_I smile at the way the wind whips up his dark curls, lifting them then dropping them like kites on a windy day, crouching beside me he looks at me from under his long dust smattered eyelashes, I can't tear my eyes away, holding his attention for as long as possible, he doesn't seem to care; smiling at me as we have a precious few minutes away from the rest of our section._

 _Dropping his gaze to the ground he finds what he's looking for; a pebble, the smooth stone picked up, his wrist flicking 90 degrees and the pebble thrown gently into the air before being caught again, like a teenage boy he hands me the stone as if it's a childish gift, no words needed as the warmth shining out of his eyes replicates the heat that's coursing all the way to my heart from his touch. Resting his elbows on his knees, using his rifle to balance he sighs, I don't look but I know he's taking in the sunrise, the star rising above the snow topped mountains of Afghanistan casting an ethereal start to the day. "Do you ever get scared?" I ask quietly._

" _Sometimes." The words are whispered, an admission, memories, thoughts being played out behind the dark brown eyes that I've come to love, that are the first image in my nut every morning when I wake, the last conscious thought when I fall asleep at night. He nods towards the peaks in the distance. "It would be hard to imagine never seeing the sun setting or rising again."_

" _There was me imagining' never gonna' feel a vodka and coke sliding down my throat again…... "_

" _Dawes."_

 _When I look he's smirking, his bottom lip trapped under the whiteness of his teeth as he stands up, his eyes shining with amusement. "Sir" I take his out stretched hand, accepting his offer to help my weary bones up from the damaged wall that was my temporary seat, his fingers prize open my clenched fist, his rough gloved hands harsh against my skin removing my precious pebble._

" _Look after this for me." He drops his voice, the words caressing my ear, I gasp as I feel his hands graze my hips, finding his way into the pocket of my combats, dropping the pebble into the fabric. His fingers linger for a minute, my hips pushing instinctively towards him, he places his hand on the softness below my flak jacket, exhaling a short laugh at my forwardness. "I might gonna' have to wait till we get back to Brize."_

These dreams are always the hardest to wake from.

 **Running on Empty.**

April 22nd 2016

I'm weary, there's no other word for it, my legs are heavy as I swing them out of bed; balancing on the edge of my prison for the night, sighing, missing the heat yet glad to be away from the horrifying opportunity of dreams that it brings.

I try not to listen to the song that's woken me from the blackness of sleep, the words are too close to the truth, a cruel suggestion in the lyrics that's becoming an inconceivable dream that might never happen, making me feel, making me remember and as much as my own personal shrink tells me that's the only way to move on I refuse to. The fragments that come into my nut are enough, full scale reminiscing too bleedin' much. My fist comes down on top of the off button, the cheap alarm clock jumping on my bed side table, the song still continuing, mocking me until the last chord, with a deep breath I press it gently, reverentially in the hope the torture stops, then there's silence, leaving me with only the sound of my own breathing ringing in my ears.

Taking a moment I smooth my hair back, looking out the gap in the curtain; sunshine. It makes me smile, or grimace if I'm being honest, it would have to be bleedin' cloudless blue skies today, could it not be pissing down, snowing even, anything to make it easier not to remember the oppressive heat, the fragments of conversations in the still air. I look over at the rocking chair in the corner, I'd found it at a market, for some reason thinking that it might make my bedroom that bit more homely, but maybe the only way to do that is to put something personal in the bare white walled space, apart from my clothes it's devoid of anything remotely Molly Dawes, even my running clothes, organised and placed out the night before are black, regulation; a bleakness against the flaky untouched paint of the shabby seat that I've never had the calmness in my nut to sit in.

My heart aches as I head along the small hall to the kitchen, another day stretching ahead of me, it lifts slightly at the sound of a fridge closing, an unidentifiable discussion on a radio station that I'd switched off before heading to my pit last night meaning that I've got company, I'm glad, my first fix of human company for the day.

"Coffee Molls?"

Picking up my jacket from the back of the chair, I smile at Libby, my flatmate, my friend. "No thanks" instead I move over to stand beside her,waiting until she's filled up the kettle, moving into her space to let my sports bottle fill to the top with water, taking a sip, amusement on my face at her obvious walk of shame clothes "Good night?"

She looks down at her own clothes, her pulling outfit as she calls it, the fashionable minidress showing off her long legs that I'd die to have, then grinning at me before watching the kettle with a hint of shyness "Alright I suppose"

"Anyone I know?" This isn't the first time our paths have crossed in the kitchen at 5am, her returning from a night out, mine starting my day the only way I know how - pounding the streets until I forget whatever nightmare I'd suffered during the night.

"Nah don't think so" She turns to face me, stirring the coffee and sugar together before she adds the water, a habit she has, I've given up ever making it for her, telling her she has OCD but we both know she doesn't, well we've labelled it as a coping mechanism. "Welsh, so I don't think I'll be seeing him again"

It doesn't matter what country or county or town or village or even planet he came from, she wouldn't be seeing him again, my flatmate doesn't do relationships, the reason for it we never discuss. I'm sure her companion from last night is still asleep, blissfully unaware of her having done a bunk. "Do you think we should put the heating back on?" We both contemplate it for a few minutes, leaning against the chipped work surface, or take solace from each other, our default to converse about the monotonous when we're touching on dangerous subjects; were flawed, we know that.

"Sod's law, we put the heating back on and the temperature will rise"

"Yeah s'pose'" A yawn escapes, catching me unaware, my hand too late to cover my gob, I can't remember the last time I yawned at this time in the morning, normally I only yawn when I'm sitting up, refusing to hit my pit, watching shit on television or listening to crap on the radio; maybe it's progress my body starting to want to return to the warmth of my bed rather than run the streets of Clacton-on-Sea, but then I contemplate it for a second and the fear of that couple of hours where you head into a deep sleep, dreams even more vivid aren't worth it. I pick up my phone from the table, switching it on, those few seconds of hope but then it's gone as I look at the blank screen, I swallow against the disappointment, giving Libby a look that's meant to convey an air of control, she's watching me, not quick enough to remove the look of pity on her face.

"See you later eh?"

"I'll wake you when I get back" I'm heading out, my hand on the door handle as I turn, sticking my tongue out. Who says I can't do normal?

"Don't fucking bother Molls. I'm not seeing this day until it's dark again." And she's serious, at the weekend she could give a vampire a run for their money when it comes to sleep patterns.

My routine is the same every morning that I'm here, even down to stopping to speak to our next door neighbours cat, Harold. I think he knows that I can't cope with any kind of deviation, the loyal tabby sitting waiting patiently on the stairs for me, meowing, as if he's giving me attention for a few minutes before arching his spine; heading off, back to the comfort of his flat after a night of hunting.

It's always left that I take, though as the heavy door bangs loudly behind me I take a moment to look right too, taking another sip of water, motivating myself, ever since it happened I'm waiting. I get a grip; quelling the disappointment of hope. Taking my well worn path, the quickest way to get to the end of our street then heading east, towards the promenade where I can run, not having to worry about crossing roads, let my mind drift to nothing, ironically I've not lost my sense of self preservation, still wanting to live no matter how painful it is.

These mornings are the closest I feel to content, the cold air from the sea hurting my throat, scratching with each breath, only the sound of the seagulls and my harsh breathing, drowning out the sound of my feet pounding the pavement, if anyone had ever told me that I'd grow to love the sound of the sea birds I'd have laughed, told them to piss off, that it would mean that I was near water, I hated water but as I run, their angry squabbling sums up my internal feelings, makes me feel that I'm not alone in my fury with the world. I'm pushing myself this morning, sprinting, not just the last 50 but since I hit the tarmac outside the flat, exerting myself like never before, trying to run away from my demons but I can't, I should know that now, it's been 17,520 hours.

That day when I'd stood on the bridge in Afghan, a gun pointing in my face I'd made a promise to myself that if I got another chance I'd appreciate everything; a silent begging plea to whoever might be listening that I'd never take anything for granted again, life would become the greatest gift and I'd make my days on this earth count. It was a promise I never kept, I fell out with life, god, the world, distancing myself with each passing day, week, month and year. I can't bear to take in the breathtaking beauty of the sun rising to the East, a fear that if I do see the burnt orange beauty over the horizon that it'll get taken away from me. I stopped living that day, my heart now only beating to pass the time.

"Morning"

This is the only stop I do, my hands going to my knees trying to get my breathing back, smiling at my old mate, one of the chosen few in my world that I'm pleased to see. He's sorting the newspapers in the old fashioned display cabinet outside his small shop, I wait for him to finish carefully arranging, pride in his work, zipping my jacket up against the cold April wind when I straighten up, my breathing back to normal. If you walk 5 paces North you can look down a street and see the sea, he told me that, with pride when I'd first met him, it's been the only change to my route, since that day I've made sure that I pass his shop on my way back.

The first day I met him I couldn't get away from him, now with hindsight I wonder if he saw something in me, something that made other people keep away from me. He'd told me that his routine has been the same for 17 years, every morning since his wife died, 148,920 hours I told him. 'Well' he'd said 'that's 131,400 hours of happy memories'. It was Bill who told me that he'd given himself 2 years to be angry, 2 years to question why every single minute of every hour of every day she'd been taken away until he realised he'd been lucky to have her in his life, that she'd been a gift. Him that had told me that I should give myself that amount of time and then there should be a cutoff, a conscious decision to move on. He hands me a newspaper, who'd ever have thought that I would read anything other than tabloid shit, but I figured if there's ever gonna' be any news it's going to be from this. it doesn't take me long to speed read the headlines of the first few pages, I hand it back "Usual shit" It's progress, I'd cemented my friendship with Bill when I used to come and buy every single newspaper, taking them back to the flat, reading them as I sat on the floor, my hands black with ink as word for word I searched for a name, but it was never there, well not after the first month.

"Any plans for today?"

My eyes well up, which is unusual, I don't cry, I wouldn't stop. I dip my head so he can't see me "Not sure" An image comes into my mind of the valium sitting in my bed side drawer, the comforting thought of taking enough to let me slip into a sleep; to hibernate for a day but I've tried that before, the usual story of my life - sleep equals dreaming, dreaming equals nightmares, no I'm gonna' have to face it out. "I was thinking of maybe heading somewhere, I'm not sure though."

He nods as if he understands "Anniversaries are the worst."

"What do you mean?"

"2 years ago today Molly"

"How?" I can't speak, I've never told him dates, not told anyone because then this happens, people want to put a time limit on, start judging how your feeling by the ticking of a clock "How do you know?"

Shrugging, he bends to slice his pen-knife through the twine on another stack of papers, his knees creaking as he bends down, taking his time to answer. "Put two and two together, it made the news."

I knew that, I had all the articles in my room, there were moments I'd wake and forget his face, though the pictures they'd used; his official army one, his wedding picture and a grainy image of his university days didn't reflect him, the man I'd come to know, didn't stop me panicking that one day I'd forget. The articles never mentioned me though, didn't talk about how he'd given up his life for mine, a selfless act of bravery, I wish it had been me, some days I can't breathe, rage crawling through my veins for him putting me through this, leaving me, my life empty without him. "I'll give you a piece of advice" He looks around him, pulling at his beard, his old intelligent eyes turn to look at me, concern shining out of them. "Find someone to spend today with, someone you could talk to, it's going to be a hard one"

 **Can I please just ask that if you don't mind my writing (if you do I completely understand why and don't blame you) that you give this a couple of chapters, I'd like to thank Jenmc, Bananagirl and the fabulous Emma and Natalie for giving me the courage to post this, as you can guess I needed to make sure it passed muster before hitting the publish button. As I'm sure you know I am all about the HEA, it'll maybe just be a rocky couple of chapters before we get there. Anyway I'm away to hide my head in the sand...**


	2. Photographs

**Thank you for being lovely about this story, it means a lot as I really really wasn't sure about publishing - I've had to hit the wine to hit the button, mind you nothing unusual there and really any excuse when I'm on holiday with two children and the parents have adopted 2 orphaned lambs. I do have a fair amount of this story ready, just a few tweaks so I'll try and upload quickly because I'm not sure that this story works with the first few chapters not being uploaded quickly. Anyway I'll let you get on with it...oh and finally I might have liked listening to Ed Sheerans Photographs when I was writing this :)  
**

"Ahh it's the girl with the sad eyes" He opens the door, letting me in, I have to duck under his arm then I turn and smile at him, it's been six months since I last saw him but he's aged, as if in the last few months someone's taken a pen and drawn a few more worry lines, shaded his hair with a block of charcoal. I suppose that's what it does to you, maybe I've aged too but apart from checking in the mirror to make sure I've not put eye shadow on my cheekbones I don't look too closely. "Come on through Molly, my wonderful wife has been baking."

I can smell the aroma as I make my way along the draughty hall, as always I tip my head up, looking with wonder up the stairwell, the floors that I've never seen, it's like being a child visiting a stately home or Buckingham Palace, knowing but never seeing the opulence behind closed doors. The sound of a cooker door slamming shut brings me back, she's not a good baker everyone knows that, even her, but as she says maybe one day when it matters she can produce a cake, though as her husband pointed out, maybe she should just plan on buying one. It's one of the reasons that I find this place a comfort, they joke, they pretend to carry on as normal and they accept me, not that I push it, once a year is enough, okay three so really I've met them six times, well seven 'cause they've turned up at my flat a few times, only 'cause they were passing, came in for coffee, said nice things about the flat. Even Harold graced them with his presence, which as I told them is an honour, but there was someone important missing, there always is.

"Goodness dear, have you lost more weight" The hug encompasses me, the kitchen warmer, homelier, she's taller than I am, like her son but doesn't quite reach his lofty heights, the top of my head comes to her ears, which means she can plant a kiss on my cheek at the same time. "I think I've bloody managed to bake a cake which hasn't sunk in the middle. You need fattening up, young lady." Her attention goes back to watching her creation, her tongue trapped between upper teeth and bottom lip, her head nods towards the table. "And take your coat off Molly."

George has placed himself there, sitting, his back rigid with straightness, a newspaper spread out on in front of him, easy to see what they were doing before my hastily arranged visit, without even looking he pats the chair next to him, his head turning slightly towards me as he continues to read an article. "How's your new posting going?" He was in the army too, the grand position of Colonel before he retired, as he said there was only so long you could expect your family to be at the beck and call of your career, though as he was 55 when he finally hung up his boots, Judy had pointed out that he'd left it quite long before being selfless.

"Yeah, fine, my CO's alright, wants me to go for Lance Corporal, again." I'm aware that I'm looking apologetic, guilt that I've still got a career to think of, anyway motivation hasn't been something I've had a lot of, thinking forward to the future almost impossible.

A pair of sharp brown eyes looks at me over the top of reading glasses, I call it his Colonel Bossy Boots look, his forehead furrowed with lines of his life, bushy grey eyebrows brought together. "And what's stopping you this time."

"Enough George, really, have you no manners?" Judy interrupts, her face pointed towards the glass door of the antiquated cooker. "Molly, ignore him." Straightening up she turns toward him, her finger pointing accusingly "Don't put her off coming to see us."

I'd never have thought that 1 year and 44 weeks ago I would have this welcome, that they'd accept me, even with the sadness and guilt I feel privileged.

It had been a bleak June day that I'd sat in a cafe in London, watching the rain hitting of the windows, drinking a bitter coffee and knowing that I needed to be as close to him as I could. The only information I had was that they lived in Bath, with a feeling of failure BT had informed me that there were a bleedin' 40 James' in Bath, each one I'd google mapped, until I was left with a list of 15 people who lived in old houses.

Pressing my head against the train window as the scenery changed, I hadn't known if the feeling inside me that I was coming home was instinctive or whether I was kidding myself, obviously it would have been the latter, the train station when I alighted was like a foreign country, moments of indecision spent looking at the departures board and wondering if I should get straight back on the train to London, then I'd berated myself, knowing I had apologies to make and cursing my weakness before heading out into the dismal grey day clutching my list of addresses.

With a sense of failure I'd sat on a bench in the diminishing light, only half the addresses on my list scored off, staring at the impressive circle of houses, my eyes searching for No 20; scared; petrified. I hadn't wanted him to live in a house like this, for the first time I doubted if we'd ever have worked, the divide between us too much, if this is where he called home then surely he'd never consider a girl from a housing estate in London, or even if we did what would we talk about, the differences for a moment too much between us. The rain had started gently, lulling me into thinking that it would drizzle out meaning that I hadn't noticed when the drops had got bigger, insistent in their desire to fall, only my tears were glad of the dampness, mingling with the salty trickle that escaped realising that I'd failed, that I would never find him. I'd stood, my bones cold and it was then that I noticed him; the tall figure standing under an umbrella; watching me. I'd stared back for a moment, then dropped my gaze, my shoulders hunching as I started to walk, to find my way back to the train station and back to the reality of my life when he'd coughed, cleared his throat, enough for me to pause and look at him again.

" _Are you looking for someone?"_

 _I hadn't been able to answer him, my shoulders shrugging about to walk off again when he spoke, his words quiet._

" _What can make a young girl like you so sad?" When I'd looked up at him, his eyes had been dead too, a look as if he hadn't slept for days, weeks, months. "Quite often we get tourists who sit out here, you know Jane Austen" He'd exhaled a laugh, then stopped his features crumbling with worry as I'd cried, dirty great fat snotty tears."But they don't tend to be staring at our house for hours on end crying."_

" _You sound just like him." I'd hiccuped, trying to stop the tide of emotion._

" _Ahhh" He'd shifted uncomfortably and for a moment I'd believed that he would leave, having put 2 and 2 together but he hadn't, when I dared to look at him though the tears his eyes had a glimmer of something in them, kindness. "Let me guess you knew my son."_

 _I'd nodded guiltily, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I was the medic."_

" _What's your name?"_

" _Molly"_

 _He'd smiled, holding the umbrella towards me, offering me sanctuary. "Come in Molly, my wife is desperate to meet you."_

Judy gives up watching her cake, slinging her tea towel over her shoulder, moving over to switch the kettle on, she doesn't even ask me, reaching up to get a mug from the cupboard and putting a tea bag into it. There's a pause, then her hands rest on the worktop, as if she's supporting herself, I look to George, he's watching her too, concerned, then she straightens, clasping her hands together "How is Libby doing Molly?"

"Alright, shagged a Welshman last night."

She giggles, it always makes me smile, a youthfulness to it that before everything went to shit would have shown that she enjoyed life, found the best in it. She pours boiling water into the cup, shaking her head as she takes her time to move the teabag around the cup, the spoon clinking against the side as she starts to speak. "She's some girl."

"Wish there had been more of those kind of girls when I was growing up." George grunts.

The cup of tea is placed in front of me, perfect colour, she maybe can't bake a cake but Judy certainly knows how to look after her guests, her husband is treated to a slap on the side of his head, his reaction to laugh, smiling lovingly at his wife before going back to read his paper. I take a sip, my mind trying to think of something to say, but the silence is filled as Judy turns up the antiquated built in radio, the crackle of the reception drowning out the music that's filling the room as she starts to hum along, her hand conducting an imaginary orchestra, watching her cake as she does. She once told me that Charles and Rebecca had bought her a DAB radio for Christmas, that her son had looked shamefaced as the present had been handed over, raising his eyes as she'd gushingly told her daughter in law how she loved it, that she didn't think the radio in the kitchen would hold up much longer and she'd been thinking of buying one. It now sat in a drawer, awaiting her ex daughter-in-law's weekly visits to be brought out.

Opening the oven door, Judy lifts the cake onto the worktop, pressing cautiously on the slightly darkened crust, with a sigh she takes off her liberty printed oven gloves and deeply inhales, her eyes widening as she does. "What do you think Molly?" I get up and go over, standing beside her, nodding towards a sharp knife.

"Are you not meant to put a skewer or something in it? Make sure it's cooked through."

"Don't know dear never got this far before."

Lifting up the knife, I grin at her, gently pushing the sharp blade into the sponge, pulling it back out, the blade clean, looking at her worried face with happiness, "I think you've bleedin' done it, that's alright."

Her face, that's an advert to good skin care creases into a smile, a smile slowly makes it's way up to her eyes which have one lone tear spilling out, the lump in my throat nearly chokes me, but I hold it together. "When he comes back I can bake him a cake." She wipes the tear from her face, then grasps my face, her thumbs stroking against my cheeks as she stops the tides of tears that I have no control over. "Now Molly, I need you to go through some things with me."

I follow her up the staircase, gripping onto the bannister, my mind can't help wondering if he'd ever have really invited me here, he might have told me that he was inviting me for Christmas but would he? If things had been different would it have been him and I walking up these stairs with a bleedin' carpet that doesn't go to the edge, it must be fashion 'cause surely they could afford one what fit. "The bossman said that this place was magical at Christmas."

She stops as she reaches the landing, turning and raising one perfectly plucked eyebrow in my direction "Molly, I really think you should start calling him Charles. It's a frightful name but well, it does suit him. Not that I'd tell my mother-in-law that." Continuing she passes rooms, doors as tall as the ones downstairs, none of them are open so I can't peek in, then she starts on another flight of stairs.

"It don't feel right." I speak up to her, the pictures on the wall here becoming more personal than the ones on the first flight, my pace is slower as I take them all in; school, university, army, lives that I was never part of, reminding me how little I know about him. When we returned to the UK it had been easy enough to find out his first name, it was on every bleedin' newspaper article, Captain Charles James, in a way it did suit him but if I'd got the chance I'd have taken the absolute piss out of him for it, sometimes even when I say it in my nut I get the urge to start giggling but to say it out loud well, no, he'd never given me the go ahead to call him that, in fact he'd never even told me what his first name was. Funny how you can fall in love with someone, give up the rest of your life for them and not even know what they were called. "He'd be well pissed if I broke ranks 'n' called him that."

"I class you as a family friend Molly, so I'm giving you permission to call him that." Opening a door she winks at me, inviting me in "You may even call him Charlie if you're ever feeling incredibly annoyed with him, he hates that."

Sitting cross legged on the wooden parquet flooring, I ignore the ache on my arse and ankles, holding my hand out for the next photograph that Judy passes me, I'm surrounded by him, letters, photo's even his first curls in a small glass container, in a way it's too much but like an addict I want more, my eyes greedily taking in every detail. "I think that was his first tour" she peers over the top, her eyes scrunched for a second as she recalls. "Yes it was" The boy in the picture, because he's not yet a man makes me grin, searching his face, the dimple that I can't remember now, the hair without curls as if he thought that would help him be taken seriously in the scary world of the army. It's the next picture that's passed to me that makes me gasp, this one is him, the man I know, a technicolour reminder of how my heart would always beat faster when I saw him, my finger traces his outline, it's as if I'm back there for a minute, god I'd do everything different. "You can keep that if you want." It's in my pocket before she's even completed the sentence, her grey curls back to looking through the latest box, on one side a definite pile for Sam's school project on the other, a pile that could possibly be for Sam's school project; we're not doing well at this, not wanting to leave anything out.

"How is Sam?" I ask, respectively folding a letter until I can't see the words that ain't for me, placing it on a new pile, one for his son when he's older.

Judy brings her head up, lifting the glasses onto her head, "Growing, looks more and more like his father everyday. You need to see him again Molly." She smiles, the boastful look of a proud grandma. "He asked for you the last time."

"Bet you Rebecca didn't."

We both laugh, giggling like school kids in the high ceilinged spare room which is probably the size of my flat, the space is empty apart from the memories laid out before us, the sounds from our amusement echoing around us. Wiping a tear away Judy bites her bottom lip. Lets just say that Sam and I have bonded, it were easy, all I did was tell him one story about his dad and we were good friends. Unfortunately that story involved one of the many occasions that his old man told me to piss off but in my defense there were very few conversations that we had where he didn't. It was like a term of endearment towards the end always said with a grin or a lip bite or if I was really lucky his hand would come towards me as if he was gonna' touch me or hug me before he would remember where we were and it would go back in his pocket, a moment of tension in his perfect frame and he'd get all business like again. Though I'd get round that with a cheeky comment so it would normally end with a head shake as he walked off, sometimes he'd even walk a couple of paces then I'd hear a snort as if he was laughing. Now whenever his son and I are in the same room he comes bounding over his familiar brown eyes begging for another story. I'm running out of them now, having to make them up, Sam calls them the 'piss stories'. Apparently in Waitrose a few months ago, he'd waited until the queue got really busy before exclaiming in a loud voice that his 'Daddy likes to check people's piss.' The whole queue was tuttin' and Rebecca says that she's too embarrassed to go in there again, but she's not that bothered 'cause she says that it's only because of their gin selection and she's found a great internet site. Anyway who classes piss as a swear word?

I also bought him the Game of Thrones books for when he was older, you know how it's the law or something these days that you've got to buy the entire Harry Potter set well I thought I'd be a bit different. I'd never seen the bleedin' programme had I. In Rebecca's favour, she had hugged me, whispered in my ear that I was taking Charles's place in buying a present that weren't right for their son. I liked Rebecca, she liked me to the point we were even facebook friends, it always surprised me seeing as for the last few days of the tour I'd felt a jealousy towards her unlike anything I'd ever felt before. "I remember one year, Christmas 2012 I think, anyway" Judy leans over conspiratorially, her knee resting on top of old school reports that seemed to have a lot of excellents on them. "Charles was on deployment, Afghanistan." She takes in a deep breath of sadness. "It was a last minute tour, obviously he'd volunteered, he hadn't time to get organised so left his cousin to buy Sam a present, poor child was given a…." She's interrupted by the creaking of the old door, both of us turning round to see an apologetic George.

"Sorry but that's nearly 8pm, you know you're more than welcome to stay Molly but if you want a lift…"

"God yeah, sorry, I'd better get back."

Both of them come to the station to see me off, I suppose in a way I'm a link to their son, one of the few that was last to see him, that can tell them that up to that point he was happy, doing the job he loved. I'm hugged; twice, Judy holding onto me. "You promise that you'll come back to see us Molly."

The words are so close to what he once asked of me, my answer had to be the same. "I will."


	3. Don't Go Far Off

**Hopefully this will answer a few questions for people :) Still a bit angsty but we will get there I promise, Molly's wit, charm and beautifully tenacious nature will be shining through soon. I'd kind of started this story as a challenge to look into how when you had found the 'one', which I believe they were to each other, that someone as strong as Molly wouldn't let go in the circumstances that my silly brain has come up with. Anyway thanks to those that are still sticking with this :)  
**

"Good weekend?"

"Alright" I slide my bag onto my desk, looking round the classroom, yet again I'm one of the first, sliding into my seat like a huffy teenager. I'm 12 weeks into my A level English literature, my highest grade so far a C+, unbeknown to everyone else I'm bleedin' ecstatic about it, I even phoned my mum to tell her. "Didn't get my homework done though, did you?"

Tony's sitting, his upper body resting across the top of his desk on the other side of the aisle, his blue eyes twinkling. "Of course not, where would the fun in that be?" His fingers start drumming on the edge of the plastic desk, his head cocked to the side. "At least you've got a good excuse."

"Have I." Grinning I take my set text out, the spine of the book still intact, I'm nowhere near finding out anything 'bout Hussein's narrative in Chapter 17 of this book, never mind what the question papers might ask this year.

"You not been on exercise or" Tony lifts his shoulders up to his ears "Whatever it is you do in the army."

Giggling, my attention away from my fellow classmate I watch our teacher making his way to the front of the classroom; he's happy, bouncing on the soles of his feet as he walks to the front. I often wonder if he'd been my teacher at school would I have engaged more, his love for the subject contagious to all around. Placing his satchel on the desk, he catches me watching him, there's something about him that reminds me of Qaseem, the kindly Afghan interpreter who became a friend, eyes full of intelligence, warmth, an empathy as he returns my smile, looking away I give my attention back to Tony, grounding myself. "We do get weekends off you know, and anyway the Army are sponsoring me through this. Unless there's another bleedin' war they'll do anything to make sure I get here."

"Do you think?" Tony leans over conspiratorially towards me, he's tall, lanky, allowing him to close the distance enough so that our tutor Mark can't hear us "That the fact I went out and got pissed at the weekend will be a good enough excuse for me?"

"Dream on mate, I'll be dobbing you in, anything to get the attention of me."

The class starts filling up behind us, a decisive clearing of a throat bringing the loud chat to a minimal whispering, the noise level of scraping chairs dropping as people settle. "Let's start off with our poetry assignment" Even Mark looks amused at the jovial groaning that starts within the group of us, he turns towards the smartboard, his loopy handwriting writing words on the board, emotions; happiness, joy, love, passion, grief, then with a pile of papers he walks up the aisle, stopping briefly at each of us. "Pablo Nerudo is a Cuban born poet…. " He hands me a sheet "Any volunteers to read this." I shake my head, like everyone else in the room, looking down at the typed words, trying to put them into sense then Mark's voice fills the room; confident, strong:

 _Don't go far off, not even for a day, because -_

 _because - I don't know how to say it: a day is long_

 _and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station_

 _when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep._

I stop breathing.

 _Don't leave me, even for an hour, because_

 _then the little drops of anguish will all run together,_

 _the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift_

 _into me, choking my lost heart._

The familiar swelling of my heart starts at the expressions that fill up every day of my life, inflaming until my breathing is laboured, my head going light as I struggle to get oxygen to my brain. Focus. I need to focus, use my coping strategies. The image being played out in stunning technicolour glory is torture, the visual beauty of the landscape of Afghan with a scene of horror playing out in front of me, the cacophony of panic around me, pulling me further and further in.

 _Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;_

 _may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance._

 _Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,_

I count to 10, a deep breath in on each even number, a deep breath out on the odd numbers; the previous unfolding scene being replaced until I'm standing on an unknown beach, the rolling white tipped waves crashing in front of me, the noise calming as it drowns out the voices of my past; the screams that haunt me everyday, then there's comfort, my visualisation bringing me peace, hope - in my mind I'm looking down, I smile, a calmness in my nut, my hand gripped tightly in another's and I know when I look up he'll be smiling, the gentle curve of his lips, a hint of humour shining out of his eyes; he's peaceful.

 _because in that moment you'll have gone so far_

 _I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,_

 _Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?_

"...Molly?...You alright?... Molly"

Opening my eyes, blinking against the garish white lights, being met with a concerned look, I smile, nodding my head. There's a hum from the lights, nothing else. Somehow the typed words are blurred, then I realise that they're smudged from my tears. "Sorry" I mumble, sniffing, using the sleeve of my thankfully long sleeved t-shirt to dab at the moisture.

"You've lost someone you love" Mark says it as a statement, his expression intense when I look up at him, I only nod, swallowing against the tide of tears. "I didn't realise sorry or I wouldn't have…"

"It's fine." I interrupt, "It's been over 2 years I should really be getting my act together." Smiling apologetically I look round at everyone. There's nothing but compassion from each and everyone of them, my head drops in shame. He looks at the rest of the class as if he's wanting to give me a break, time to compose myself. "What do you think the author is talking about?"

The question's not directed to me but I answer. "I dunno'?" Flicking the edges of my specially bought notebook, the colourful paper fanning as the air flutters against me; I wait till my heart stops thumping; then I speak; whispering "She doesn't wanna' live without someone, she really loves them, she'd die if they weren't about." I've had years of therapy now, the sessions mostly involving me avoiding any reflection of the past but for some reason I feel the need to share; the burden of life suddenly too much.

"Are they saying that they would actually die?" His soft footfalls come back towards me, asking gently, for a minute he's only talking to me, there's no one else in the room.

"No, but, she said she was dying, so if he weren't there then well…."

"Are they being figurative?" He interrupts, probing.

"Speaking from experience then yeah, it's just a very slow lonely death…"

Someone clears their throat, a sound of shuffling feet, no other sounds in the classroom as he looks in my direction but it's as if he's somewhere else, his mind trying to work something out, pulling himself up he sits on the desk, picking up a book, looking down as he opens at a random page, closing it again decisively, then he meets my gaze again, his eyes softening as he asks; "Does she still have hope?"

"We've all got to have hope mate." It's not the first time I've ever said those words, fighting against the memory of the time I knelt beside a bloke who was dying, his internal injuries too much, the heat of the Afghan sun beating relentlessly down on us, the drips of sweat rolling down my back as I tried to save him; unsuccessfully and then to find out he'd died for me, my mind point blank refusing to add up the tally of people's lives affected by me. "If we don't have hope what do we have…"

He asks, a hint that in his own way he's trying to change the subject. "Why do you think she's a female?"

The question is unexpected, I look at him confused, thinking, then I give up. "I dunno', it feels like it's written by one, only a female would think like that.."

"You underestimate the opposite sex Molly." He pushes himself to standing, his focus now going round the rest of the class "Pablo Neruda is in fact male. But." Pausing, his audience captive, he waits for his moment, like an actor waiting for the audience to still. "It makes my day when a student engages, puts themselves in the words and that Miss Dawes is I believe what you have done. Good."

The rest of the class goes past without incident, my embarrassed cheeks back to their normal colour, it's when I'm packing up, placing my books in my backpack that Mark comes back over to me, crouching down beside my desk. "Have you started the Kite Runner?"

I have a guilty conscience that no matter how much I try I can't get past the first chapter. "I have started it."

"But"

Letting out an exclamation I sit back down again, looking at Mark, "I just can't get into it, I dunno' I'm too thick to read it."

He shakes his head, I've amused him, laughing he answers me "No you are not Molly."

"Is there any other book I could do?"

"Of course" Standing, stretching he turns to head to get me a list.

"Preferably one that ain't got anything to do with shittin' Afghanistan." I add as an important afterthought.

"Were you out there?" He asks as he sorts through an untidy pile on his desk, looking for the set reading list, I've stood up and followed him over, everyone else having left the room.

"Yeah. That's where it happened."

Blinking a few times he looks at me, automatically switching off the overhead projector as he does, I almost wish he'd turn it back on, the silence making the pause almost loud as he considers what he says, then he looks sad, for me, his tone as if it all makes sense now. "Thats where you lost someone?"

"And everyday fucking day I wait for him to come back." He looks at me with surprise, then the expression in his eyes change to concern, probably 'cause he thinks that it's just a simple case that I ain't accepted it. I elaborate for once; tears pricking the back of my eyes as I hesitantly let the burden of the truth finally leave my lungs. "He didn't die that day, he was taken, the Taliban they took him hostage, well they wanted me but him being the bloke that he was offered himself up. I let him go."

 **Thanks for asking about Invincible sorry I am trying to get it to some sort of conclusion, but still finding it difficult. I'll keep on bashing away with it and hopefully at some point will feel it's alright to publish.**


	4. Where Have All The Superheroes Gone

**This had originally been two chapters but I think it works better together. Really really big thankyou to you all for being positive about this story….**

Huge drops of water are falling from the heavy grey sky, the drains unable to cope with the sudden deluge as puddles form on the pavement. Tony and I hold our jackets over our heads as we rush to the pub; his hand on my elbow trying to get me to keep to his pace as we race to take cover from the monsoon summer weather. I want to tell him to let go, the contact sitting uneasy but I suppose this should be considered normal, nothing untoward in him thinking it's okay when for the last 5 weeks we've started the habit of going for a drink after our class, even meeting for a coffee on the odd weekend. Though I know we're after different things; him a romantic relationship, me - trying to get some normality back in my life. He turns and smiles as the heavy pub door swings shut after us, I remember to smile back, taking my jacket off and letting the drops of water hit the floor. "Let's get a seat." Not waiting for an answer he heads off, I do what I always do; scanning the area to make sure that there is no one I know, that I don't have to beat a hasty retreat, though the chances of running into eight ex-colleagues is minimal, I haven't in the last 2 years so why I should worry about it now I don't know but it's habit. Tony waves at me again from the bar, a hint of patient tolerance on his face as I've not noticed his previous attempts at getting his attention and realising he's found us a table, I head over in the direction of his outstretched arm, hanging my jacket on the back, sitting, trying to keep thoughts out my nut, looking at him as he comes over placing the bacardi and coke in front of me, sliding into the seat opposite me and starting a conversation, his mouth moving but the words aren't reaching my ears. Occasionally I smile, a calculated one which is intended to convey some sort of agreement, an acknowledgment that I'm paying him some attention but I'm not. My mind is thousands of miles away in a god forsaken country called Afghanistan; the floodgates of memories having been opened tonight with just one brief conversation with my tutor. If I closed my eyes, shut out the sound of music playing from the stereo behind the bar it would be as if I was still there, easily transporting myself back there 'n' the feeling of the heat, the flies and the way the acrid dust stuck to the inside of your nostrils:

 _His words were breathless as he spoke, his hands in the surrender position as he walked towards us. "You're outnumbered, put the gun down" he'd said, his eyes flicking uncertainly between my captor and I. "We can negotiate, make a deal. You don't want this do you?." I knew him well enough to hear the nervous tremor in his voice. " I understand the Taliban, they don't give you much choice do they, but you have a choice. Let. her. go." The arm of Ramazan Ali had tightened round my throat as he thought about what the Boss man had said, it was easy to tell that the traitor had had one order, get me and unless Captain James had a shitting great plan this was it; curtains for me 'n' I hoped they'd make it quick. "Do you have family, we can protect them?"_

 _A gunshot had rang out at that minute, all of us dropping to the floor, the screams of the women behind me in the back of the truck and the confusion of 2 section ringing in the air, I still don't know to this day who fired it, if it had been an attempt to take out Ramazan but I'd gasped for breath as the corrupt ANA had choked me as we'd hit the ground, not letting his vice like hold go as he pulled me back up. The spits of his words had hit me on my face, my hands going up to his arms to try to get him to lessen his grip, let me get some air into my lungs, it was futile. "You." Ali had waved his gun around him, causing everyone to still then it was placed back against my temple, the metal pushing painfully into my skin. "You, you not care. Badrai he be here soon." My eyes were fixed on the Boss, watching him; he'd spoken into his head piece, his words angry, brokering no doubt who was in charge as he tried to salvage something from our compromised position, worked out a way to stop someone with a gun and a suicide vest then he'd turned and looked at me, a brief glimpse of panic then something went still in his face as if he'd come to a decision - I hoped it involved putting on some superhero cape and saving me but in the end it was worse much worse._

" _Leave her. Let her go and I'll take her place." Both of his hands went up to his helmet, removing it slowly, placing it on the ground with his rifle, then he took another few short calculated strides. "She's just a girl, it's me you want." The radio head set was next to go followed by fingerless gloved hands tearing the velcro of his flak jacket, noisy in the sudden silence as everyone kept a hold of their breath, then the protective material was discarded on the ground leaving him vulnerable, his eyes boring into the shit that had a hold of me. "My father has links to the government. I'm a valuable hostage."_

" _No." I'd shouted._

" _Molly listen to me." He spoke fast, aware that the Afghan didn't have the best understanding of the English language, the sound of a vehicle getting steadily close to us in the distance meaning that we were running out of time. "He's going to release you in 60 and you must leg it, none of your pishy girl shit okay and get your arse over to the lads."_

 _To my shame tears were rolling down my face, so much for bravery in the face of adversity. "I don't want you to…"_

" _Sshh" His finger went up to his mouth, his eyes still on Ramazan, this time his voice is lowered, our last conversation together. "This is for the best. Understand. I promise I'll come back to you." I'd let out a sob. "And when I do remind me to go on the fucking hostage negotiation course, okay?" And he'd smiled at me, his eyes soft, almost to the point of loving as he'd tried to reassure me._

 _I'd done as was told, followed instructions for once, my legs running to the safety of the lads, half way across I heard the sound of shouts in Pashto as a truck screeched to a halt, I'd hate myself for ever for running faster, away from the only man I'd ever loved, my only defense was in my nut he'd managed to get himself free, would be following me but by the time I got to safety, the lads forming a shield around me and turned, he'd gone and there was nothing I could do._

"So would you?"

"Of course." Automatically I answer, then pause as I come back to reality, scratching the back of my neck as I try not to grit my teeth as the sound of laughter reaches me from the bar, taking a few deep breaths I try to think if I can remember any of his conversation; what I'd agreed to. But I can't. "Sorry mate. What?"

He sighs as he spins his glass around. "Go on a date with me?"

The pub smells of damp, clinging to the inside of my nose as I try to think of a way to let him down gently, to put him off the idea so that selfishly we can remain friends; he's watching me nervous. I wonder if he knew how many lives I'd been responsible for ruining if he'd run out this pub screaming, never wanting to see me again. That would be the sensible choice. "I can't sorry."

"I'm not asking for commitment Molly, I know something's happened to you, saw your face during class but we get on together, please give me a chance. I like you."

LIfting the glass to my mouth I drain the liquid, putting it back down with a thud and standing, turning and getting my still soaked jacket. I don't care I need out of here. "I'd better get going."

Tony places his hand on my wrist, he's not rough but it has the effect that he wants because I look at him to tell him to let go, only to be met with a worried pair of blue eyes. "Molly, I'm sorry, please sit back down, I won't mention it again." As I'd sat down again he'd raised his hands to the surrender position. "I'm here if you ever need me." His hands stay still, not moving.. "I only want you to be happy."

And with that I stand, grabbing my jacket as I flee.

-og-

There's an eery silence in the flat when I let myself in, the central heatings making a noise but apart from that there's nothing, no telly or radio or even the sound of Libby's feet moving about as she makes us some tea. I'm glad I can't really be arsed with company just now and with relief I press my forehead against the closed front door until even that reminds me of him; his comforting gesture when I'd been upset at someone dying, his way of gettin' round the bloody rules that we weren't allowed to have any sort of relationship. For a perfect minute I'd been more important 'n' for someone that was, in the nicest way possible, a bit of a jobsworth it were unbelievable that he'd risk his career for someone like me. Funny ain't it that if we'd got caught, we'd have thought that would have been hell, the end of our careers and yet a few days later with some of that hindsight shit it would have been a godsend, he'd have been sitting somewhere with his son now, possibly reading him a bedtime story and I'd have been pondering what could have been from a flat in East Ham surrounded by a football squad of siblings. If only things could have been different.

Hanging my coat up on a nail that in a previous life held a picture I wonder if I should maybe go 'n' visit them; the parents. I could even get a hug from my mum, it's been ages since I've had that, it's just been a bit, let's say easier to keep away rather than seein' the pity in her eyes, or even worse when she gets all sad that she can't help me, tries to say the right thing 'n' all that 'cause nobody can.

I pause from my pity party for one 'n' culinary talents of piercing a hole in my microwave meal as I hear a noise I don't want to hear. Shit. Screwing my face up though there's no one to see it but yup with a regular thud there's the sound of a headboard hitting a wall. Jeez it's only 9.30pm and a week day. Maybe we've been burgled, and the burglars got a bit excited 'cause you hear about that don't you? Though there's something in my mind that wasn't right when i came in the flat now I come to think of it, not only the quiet but there was something visual and with the reassuring hum of the microwave as it starts and a fork in my gob, I head back out to the hall and there lined up next to each other is a pair of huge manky trainers, and above that a hoodie. My flatmate is so gettin' it.

That's what I like about life, it's shit but something like this makes you smile, and I'm giggling, watching the numbers on the digital timer slowly descend as the crescendo from the bedroom gets louder, the thudding more frantic 'n' then silence. I do a round of applause, a silent whoop for my flatmate, I'm still grinning, happy that maybe just maybe my best friends life is starting to get on track.

The bedroom door opens as my meal finishes gettin' nuked which is perfect timing as it means I can keep my nut in the microwave, not have to look at whoever comes out her room, unless of course that she want's to introduce us and then…

"This is my flatmate…"

…. I'll turn smile, try to be mature 'n' not act as if I was a 16 year old and thinking it was the funniest thing ever that they was shagging, hold my hand out, actually scrap that after what they were doi….

"Molly?" I freeze. Even my heart misses a beat or two, He's standing with his mouth wide open, he even looks confused. "Shit. Molly. How are you?"

"I'm fine." I've gone off my dinner, in fact the smell is making me want to be sick. What's that saying? Of all the welsh prannets in the world this one had to walk into my kitchen. Life really ain't fair.

"You know each other?"

"We served together in Afghan, didn't we Molls." I nod, leaning against the kitchen worktop for support; his explanation doesn't quite cover that this bloke standing in front of me with the wary blue eyes was once my best mate, one of only eight who knew what happened that day, was there to see that someone had given his life for me. Maybe we'd once had a thing round the back of an indian takeaway as well but we don't need to talk about that.

"So I don't need to introduce you then?" She's smart my flatmate.

"How've you been?"

"Fine." For the want of anything better to do than hug him 'n' tell him that I am actually pleased to see him, I give my attention back to my ready meal, peeling of the plastic and stirring it with the fork, asking casually. "You?"

"Alright, wasn't well for a bit but my mam's still got one son so…."

"That's a shame but you're fine now yeah?"

He nods his head, looking between Libby and I, correctly judging that I'm doing a good impression of someone who ain't interested. "It was good seeing you Molls, you know where I am if you ever need me or us eh?"

Now would probably be the right answer, but as always there's something stopping me, watching him as he walks out the kitchen as if he's defeated, no hint of the cocky swagger that he used to have. As I'm about to let go of the breath I've been holding, his body comes to a stop, then he turns towards me, he looks shiftily at me or I look shiftily at him, it's a close call. "I don't understand why you cut us all off Molls, we were your mates. It can't be guilt or that 'cause you know…. you put your life in danger to save me, you didn't think that if you'd been shot, died that day, that I'd have to live the rest of my life feelin' the guilt. All he did was the same. You might of had something going on but even then it wouldn't have…...,"

"We…...didn't….." I can't get the words out, struggling with the panic that's going on inside. No one can ever know.

"I saw you in the bunker, he wanted you to be." Smurf interrupts, his forehead crumpling as if he's got some kind of pain. "Well you know, he wanted you to be the last person he saw." There's an awkward pause then he turns towards Libby, smiles sadly at her as if he's resigned, taking a few steps backwards. "You know where I am if you need me, I'm guessing…..." He shrugs, leaving the sentence unfinished then turns and walks out the door, there's silence in the room, both of us giving him time to get his shoes on, waiting for the sound of a closing door 'n' then I breath, deeply as I try to sort it all out in my nut.

Libby claps her hands, jolting me out of my thoughts. "Well that went well." She's grinning at me, as I try to look apologetic.

"Shit sorry."

"Could have been worse. You could have slept with him or something." I honestly try to arrange my face into one of innocence, her face falls; "Shit she has." There it is again a line from the past, it's as if the walls are coming in that little bit closer, tightening around me 'n' there's nothing I can do. Libby's pulling a face,two fingers going into her mouth before she shakes her whole body as if she's trying to get rid of something. "You are telling me, that we've shagged the same bloke. Ewwwww, that ain't right. That is not right at all."

"Yeah well." Opening the fridge I take out wine unscrewing the top and then drinking straight from the bottle, swigging it down, until I can't take anymore, my head fuzzy. The news that I could have lost him too, that I wasn't about to help him, it's… well another failing but like with the Bossman, I have a lot of faults but self pity ain't one of them. I hold out the bottle, challenging my normally hygienically anal flatmate. "We've shared blokes, surely we can share a wine bottle, right?."

Libby wipes the top, Rome weren't built in a day I suppose, taking one long sip before theatrically pointing the bottle in my direction. "He nearly died, had a brain haemorrhage, not that I feel sorry for him I'm not that kind of person but, he's the first guy I've liked in well, a very long time and I think somewhere in that messed up brain of yours you care about him too, so if you're quick enough you could always catch him."

I reach back taking the bottle out of her hand, another sip and then I'm decided, I'm maybe not ready to move on, probably never will but it's maybe time I start accepting the past. She follows me out to the hall as I try to get my wet trainers back on. "And don't think sister that getting me pissed is going to get you out of telling me what that shit about that last person he saw was."

My jacket stays on the nail as I turn, I don't have any time to get it but I smile at my flatmate. "When I come back, I promise I'll tell you everything."

The rain hasn't eased, my feet pounding through puddles as I take steps towards my past. Thankfully the streets are quiet at this time of night so it's easy to spot him as he walks down the street. "SMURF" His head is down, cars whooshing past me; drowning out my shouts. "SMURF." I'm out of breath as I eventually catch up with him, placing my hand on his shoulder, his face surprised as he turns. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Then he's hugging me, the way best mates do.


	5. If Only

"We need to Medevac him out Sir." There's the heavy rumbling sound of tanks around me as the guy lying in the mud with half a leg groans, his hand grabbing onto my flack jacket. "Hang in there mate." I squeeze his hand reassuringly "Sir, you need to send a 9 liner." Taking my pen out I write on the damp cheek of my injured casualty, trying to shield him from the rain with my body as I wait for a reply, the line crackling in my ear as the Commanding Officer starts to speak.

"What's his injuries Private Dawes?"

"Sir." For fuck sake as if I'm gonna' say in front a bloke who's life has been kiboshed with one explosive device that he's missing a bleedin' leg, like how the fuck to guarantee that someone goes into shock. "I'm asking for a 9 liner 'cause he's an urgent surgical medevac, we NEED to get him out of here." I repeat, keeping my head down as there's the sudden crack of gunfire, I smile, removing all traces of unease I feel at the wet around the ears rupert who I'm reporting to. My heart is thumping in my chest, the noise of the live firing hurting my ears.

"Roger that, await further instructions Private." Jesus Christ what's the use of an exercise if you're gonna' fuck it up.

"Straight out of Sandhurst?"

"Sorry, did I roll my eyes out loud?" I ask as I look down, trying not to laugh. There's no other casualties at the minute and if this was real life this guy would need me with him so I sit, the cold of the ground seeping through my combats. "Yeah, think he's panicking a bit, first time in charge 'n' probably hoping to impress the big brass. Feel sorry for him in a way." Using the time I have I start to tidy up my Bergen, keeping the conversation going. "What happened to you?"

"IED Herrick" He puts his hands behind his head, letting out a sigh as he relaxes, a cheeky grin lighting up his muddy face. "Now trying to make it as an actor. What's your background?"

"Yeah did Afghan, seen a bit out there."

"Once seen Afghan, never forget Afghan."

"Too bleedin' right there, sayin' that could have all been a bit different what with that new crap they've got." I've got a bergen full of the stuff, Xstat. Plugs a gunshot wound in less than 20 seconds 'n' stops a major bleed out. Don't think I'm the only one to be a bit pissed that it took so long to get it regulated, like if you had a choice between dying or losing a leg would you not be happy to be a bit of guinea pig, I know I would. Saying that I'll be more impressed when they find out a way of microchipping us so you can't lose someone, just start up a computer and bob's your uncle you know where they are. Maybe I'm gonna' have to get used to life being one big if only.

His shoulders shrug as if he's resigned, "No point stressing about the past is there? What's for you 'n' all that. Anyway, I've been picked for the Invictus Games, met Prince Harry, life's just different. Could off lost a leg to cancer or something. This shit goes down great at the pub, I've never bought a pint in months."

"Bleedin' tight arse." I laugh, listening out for the sound of the incoming Chinook. "And you'll be up for an Oscar."

"Exactly." His hand comes up to mine. "I'm Dave."

"Nice to meet you Dave."

"Everything under control Dawes." My Sergeant appears by my side, his eyes flicking over the comedian in front of me who goes back to practicing his acting. "Yeah requested a 9 liner 'n' hopefully help'll be on it's way soon. Got the bleeding to stop for the moment. He's stabilised"

"Second Lieutenant's shitting himself. He's got the OC in with him…." His breathing's heavy as if he rushed to get here, "...listening to every word, it were fun for a bit but there's only so long you can watch someone making an arse of themselves." We all stop, listening to further instructions coming in. I grab my gun that was sitting next to me, starting to put my Bergen on my back, hopeful that I'm gonna' get asked to go to the soldier that's just reported that he's been shot. "Right Dawes, your up." I smile gratefully, I'd forgotten how much I loved this. "Stewart, Harris. I need cover for Dawes. Go do your stuff. I'll wait with this one."

When I get there, the injured guy is lying quiet. The exercise is organised to make sure that we're gonna' get as close to a real life battle scene as possible 'n' I'm waiting for there to be a gunshot wound, like what's been reported in but this guy's remaining quiet, not tellin' me anything. Old habits die hard as I put my fingers to the side of his windpipe. "Can you tell me where it hurts mate?" I do the tried and tested shake before running my hands over his body, trying to feel for anything obvious and it's then that I feel the warm sticky mess on the back of his flak jacket. I'm reaching for my Bergen, taking the bandages out, ready to apply pressure, if this was a year ago, it would be easy but I've got this new wonder stuff 'n' I'm gonna' look an absolute tit if I use it when I shouldn't. Shit I can't remember. I'm rolling him towards me, talking to him, tellin' him that he's gonna' be okay and looking for assistance from my section. The wounds not real obviously but it's enough to have the adrenalin kick in, my hands shaking. "I'm gonna' roll you, get this wound sorted, then we'll get you out of here, alright." As the lads get into position, I start the drill, pressing the button on my radio, issuing the request to my CO who this time seems to be more inclined to get the ball rolling and then I go back to this wound. I try to think back to our days training, remember what was said, Libby sitting next to me; her voice whispering as we tuned out of what the lecturer was saying, too impatient to find out about this stuff. "Oh here we go, it is NOT, they've put that in capitals." She'd clarified, looking up for a minute to make sure I was paying attention. I'm now not sure that I was. Then I remember her words. "Indicated for use in: the thorax; the pleural cavity; the mediastinum; the abdomen; the retroperitoneal space; the sacral space above the inguinal ligament; or tissues above the clavicle. Basically the whole body."

"Sir, I can't use the Xstat, there ain't no exit wound so I don't know where the damage is inside. The casualty's unconscious Sir and I'm not sure how much blood he's lost. I'm gonna' try and stop the bleedin' but.." The roar of the helicopter above me means that I can't talk anymore, shutting up and getting back to my job. When the Chinook lands, the MERT team coming out I get a pang again about being in the wrong place that if things had been different I would have been one of them, instead of trying to live in the shadows, not be noticed in case they wanted to send me back to Afghan. I couldn't return, too much of a coward, leaving the first time without him, had been the hardest thing I've ever done 'n' I know I'm like a broken record but it weren't 'cause of any romantic shit, it was that he was a good person and he didn't deserve that to happen to him.

I would have loved to have gone out there though, with like a search party like what you see on the news, rows of us in close formation, scouring Afghanistan until we found him. If I'm honest I don't think they've tried hard enough, George keeps telling me that they're doing all that they can, that there's loads of stuff that goes on in the background that we don't know about but what worries me the most is that he ain't got anything to do with the government, unlike what his son said and if Badrai 'n' that found out he'd lied, well I can't think about that.

Over the noise of the blades I give my report, only nodding as the Major gives me a calculating look as I admit that I ain't used the stuff. "We'll have a debriefing after and find out if you're right."

"Yes Sir."

It's almost dusk when wearily we all stop, groaning with relief when the klaxon sounds, the vast area stilling signalling that the exercise is over. We stop waiting to regroup before heading back across the Plains. I'm smiling as the Sarge walks over to me, taking his helmet off as he does. "Glad that's over then Dawes?"

"Desperate for a shower Sarge." Grinning back at me he wipes his hand across his face that like all of us is splattered with mud, our lips dry and cracked. Mine ache as I take a drink of water, letting it spill out of my mouth to try and get some hydration. "'n' maybe even a take away 'n' a glass of wine. Not much." I finish.

He sighs, looking up at the heavy sky. "Simple pleasures."

"Yeah they're the best. Did we do alright?" There's always a sense of pride with these things, we all feel it, a chance in a more peaceful world to show that we've all still got it.

"I think it went well, though I'm sure the CO's going to be in for a bit of a roasting. Few dodgy decisions in my opinion. Anyway, the OC has asked to speak to you"

"Shit, didn't use the bleedin' Xstat, bet you I bloody should have."

He shrugs as if he's not too fussed. "One thing, you make a mistake like that and you'll know for the next time. This is the place to make the mistakes."

"Spose, but could do without a bollocking."

He giggles, it's one of the things we take the piss out of him for, the sound never sounds right coming out of the hardened soldier, there ain't much else for us to say about him; he's a good bloke. "Just think of the glass of wine later. You'll get him in the tent." He finishes before heading off.

In the end he's not in the tent, instead standing relaxed against a defender as he checks his phone, lucky for some is all I can say I ain't seen mine for days, saying that at least I don't get the hourly update on Smurf and Libby's shagging relationship. There is a thing as too much knowledge. "Sir?"

"At ease Dawes. You alright?" I relax my shoulders, watching the normally man of few words as he looks at me, then puts his phone in his pocket as he straightens up. He smiles as if he's concerned.

"Shittin' myself that I made the wrong call with the Xstat Sir."

"No Dawes, you were impressive out there." Well that seals it, there ain't no way this is gonna' be good. I'm thinking possibly Sierra Leone, I know with what happened that they've not felt that I could be deployed but obviously my times up and they've decided that I'm fully operational again or some shit like that. "Have you heard?" Nodding his head, acknowledging the confused shaking of mine he continues to watch me, it's unsettling. "There's been a development. Your Captain in Afghanistan. And I hoped you hadn't heard it from anyone else, you know what these things are like, always get leaked before they become official."

The air seems to still, panic starting. The kind that travels up your spine robbing you of the air out of your lungs and rushing it up into your ears. I want to cry, if it's bad news I'm not ready, I can't be told in the middle of a field like this, without anybody to pick up the pieces because if it's the worst I need my mum. The pause is becoming too long, my brain too scrambled to be able to work out what emotions are displayed on his face. "Sir?" My voice breaks as I beg him to put me out of my misery, over two years I've waited for something, anything but I'm so scared that after this moment I'm not gonna' have any hope left.

It's as if everything is now in slow motion, his movement as he looks away, his eyes focusing on something in the distance before he looks back at me and smiles. "He's coming home Dawes, he's been released."

 **Sorry you may of had to use just a huge amount of creative license for this. Google and I are now best friends though with any (probably all) inaccuracies I'll blame the search engine. The Xstat is real but I ain't got a clue when it's going to be licensed or if it even has. This is the last daily update, though thought it was a good place to leave it ;) Got a day of travelling tomorrow and back to the real world but do still have a couple of chapters safely tucked away. Thanks again for reading x**


	6. Breathing The Same Air

**I promise ff technical issues aside I will update tomorrow! I'm trying not to rush this story so I'm sorry if it's taking a bit long, I'm as desperate to get CJ back as I hope you all are too but trying to explore Molly's feelings. Anyway I'll shut up and let you read - thank you :)**

There's a tiny gap between two houses and you can just see the sea, not in the dark as it is now with the street lights polluting the view; but during the day you can. I think it's 'cause of what I always think, you know, of me 'n' him standing on a beach somewhere 'n' everything's alright that's making me stand here with the phone in my hand; shaking. It's been nearly 4 weeks of waiting, a different kind to before but still waiting, scared to put my phone down or thinking that if I've left it to make a cup of tea that when I come back there'll be something; there never was but there is now. I'm shittin' myself.

I turn at the creaking of the door to see Libby peeking round as if she's not sure if I am actually in here, she switches the light on and I have trouble focussing at first, blinking as I try to get used to it, I don't know how long I've stood here, scrap that I do I just need to look at the message 'n' that'll tell me.

"You alright?" Her face falls which makes me even worse. "Crap your not." I must look a mess, I've never been a pretty crier. "I'll get Smurf."

Outside I can hear the fragments of the conversation, can picture Smurf being shoved into the room, it makes me start to laugh but then my nose starts to run so I stop. "Molls?" To give him his due he comes over and hugs me, like he used to do before it went to shit between us, patting my back as if I was a kid. "What's happened?"

I press my face into his chest, my hands gripping onto his shirt as I ask the question I'm most frightened of. "What if he hates me Smurf?"

"Shhh, of course he won't." We stand like that for minutes, his heartbeat reassuring until he pulls away, probably 'cause I've soaked his t-shirt with my tears. Taking my phone out my hands he reads it; the text, then he tugs my hand, guiding me until we're sitting on the edge of the bed and his arm goes around me again, gently pressuring me until I'm resting my head against his chest, sighing as I start sobbing again.

Six weeks Smurf's been back in my life and surprisingly I'm not sure what I'd have done without him. He'd sat up with me for hours watching the rolling stream of the news, both of us uncomfortable watching the man that was once our respected Commanding Officer keeping his head down away from the endless bursts of flashes from cameras. I'd never realised what an intrusion of privacy all that shit was, knowing that he'd hate it all; wanting to get back to his family without this side of it all. Asking myself why should he have to go through it, he'd done nothing wrong, one bad judgement at thinking my life was more important than his 'n' that was it.

We've even been in agreement that if I had voted for the Prime Minister in the first place, I wouldn't vote for him ever again, the sanctimonious shit having sounded as if he'd been responsible for going in there 'n' having personally taken the Bossman out of hell, rather than a few conversations from the comfort of Downing Street agreeing that they would return a couple of Guantanamo Bay prisoners which in my opinion they should have done 2 years 'n' 3 fucking months ago.

Smurf sighs into my hair. "It's always been you. He'd never have let anyone else have you." The bed creaks as I pull myself away, dragging a pillow down to use it for comfort as I cross my legs underneath me, watching him through my watery eyes as he stares ahead, a slight blush working its way up his neck. "Didn't want to admit it to myself." I smile sadly as he looks at me shiftily as if he's not comfortable talking about the past. "I was so infatuated with you, 'cause that's what it was when I look back, just infatuation 'cause you saved my life." His shoulders shrug "You were never mine, were never meant to be mine."

"Sorry."

"Don't be daft." His face twists, but it's an amused smile he gives me. "It's all worked out ain't it. You were right what you said in the bunker. Though I think it might have been me who would have killed you before we got on that plane to Afghan."

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that." I laugh, but even though it is genuine it still sounds strange as if it doesn't have a place within the gentle sounds of the flat. Bumping my shoulder into him, we share a smile before I settle back against him, the rumble of his voice starting again.

"As soon as I heard you talk that day, watched you together…." He continues as if he's talking to himself as he recalls it all. "It all made sense. I'd remember the looks between you both, you used to have this special smile…..."

"Piss off." I can feel his chuckle reverberating through my cheek, his hand is pulling at my elbow. There's something oddly comforting about it, knowing that he's happy with my flatmate and that we can be what we were always meant to be; best mates.

"No you did, like you were happy with the world." I can hear the grin in his words, as if it pleased him "And he did too, he was always more relaxed, often I'd see him watching you but he never seemed fazed when he realised I'd caught him, he'd just smile at me, ask if I was alright then walk away or tell me to do something, just put it down to coincidence didn't I, that I'd caught him making sure you weren't up to any trouble." He pauses, both of us listening to the sound of a car alarm going off outside, then he takes a deep breath before continuing. "Brains once said that the Boss always asked your opinion, even if we'd suggested something he'd still want to ask you. We put it down to you having impressed him, that he respected you but it was more than that. Think we were all blind; accepting 'cause it shouldn't of happened, especially not with him being such a stickler for the rules." He shook his head. "Who'd have thought."

"The rest don't know do they? They didn't guess did they?" I'm panicking, as far as I know his parents don't even know that there was anything going on, a sense of empathy for the girl who couldn't move on 'cause there son had been a hero but that was it.

"Nah don't think so." Smurf reassures me, the feel of a shoulder shrugging next to my ear. "If they did they never said."

"Nothing actually happened you know that don't you?"

"I believe you Molls, but you loved him, the Bossman, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"And he loved you. You don't tell someone that you want them to be the last person they see before they cop it if you're not in love with them. And they always say that love is strong don't they?"

"Dunno, never been in love before." We still, both contemplating, me what it's like to be in love, thinking about the boss, memories from before, my brain a jumble; Smurf probably wondering when he'll next get a shag. "What do you think has happened to him out there?" I've always been scared to think about it, my voice a whisper as I ask.

"Well it wouldn't have been pretty but he's survived two years Molls. They always say it's the not knowing that's the worst don't they? That you have no control over your life, living everyday wondering if it'll be your last. He'll have needed time to….. well as he would say acclimatise."

The breath that I release is shuddery as I try to hold onto my tearful panic. "I thought…. Well I thought that if we were to meet that he'd want to see me by myself, not in a crowd full of other people. I dunno' it's like he doesn't want to see me but he feels he should."

"How the fuck do you get that from a text message from his mum, inviting you to theirs for a party." He asks incredulously.

"I dunno', but I'm right ain't I?"

"Molls" Smurf pulls away, taking my hand instead, holding it in his as he thinks about something, when he focusses on me his jaw is set, a decisive glint to his eyes. "I can't tell you what he's thinking, why he wants to meet like that, maybe he's scared of his feelings after all this time, not ready or I dunno' you could be right but you need to be the brave girl that I know you are." His fingers tip up my jaw until I'm looking into his reassuring blue eyes. "Keep your chin up and be the strong one alright? Let him see that you're there for him if he needs you. Can you do that for me? Because he's not asked any of us so you're the only representative of his section, thank fuck the only one who he loved in that kind of way, though I was defo his favourite what with me being the best recruit at Catterick 'n' all that."

"Piss off." I'm hiccuping, brought on by a combination of laughter and my still falling tears. "But I will I promise." He hands me a tissue from somewhere in his pocket, one that I ain't sure is necessarily clean but needs must, blowing my nose loudly. "Smurf?"

"Yeah."

"What should I wear?"

It's starts as a chuckle, his face expressive in his confusion of thinking of something funny to say and before I know it I'm laughing like I've never laughed in years, him joining me until Libby's knocking on the door, looking at us as if she's confused or that I've finally gone mad. Standing up Smurf punches me gently in the arm. "I ain't got a fucking clue Dawesy but I know someone who might. Libs you're up. I'm away to watch the footie."

"Smurf"

"Yeah." Just about to leave the room he turns, his fingers tapping on the wooden frame.

"Thanks for coming back into my life."

He thinks for a minute then nods once. "I never left it Molls, it were just geography or some shit like that."


	7. Hello Again

My eyes are on my feet as I walk out of the coolness of the old house, I've got too much adrenalin to look up, my stomach churning that after 2 years and 3 months I'm gonna' finally lay eyes on him again. There's been everything going through my nut; from him not even speaking to me to us picking up where we left off. I don't mind any, even the bad ones aren't as scary anymore as long as I see for myself that he's alright. Pausing at the top of the stone steps, I take a final deep breath, lifting my head to take in the scene before me though really I'm just searching the garden in front of me for a tall bloke with curly hair.

Rebecca sees me first, raising her hand, I make my way down feeling like I'm being watched then I see George raising the bottle of champagne in his hand as an acknowledgment, my smile nervous in it's response. "I think he's done a runner." She whispers as soon as I reach her, handing me a glass, it's cold in my hand as I take a nervous sip, still looking around me as if it's a game of who can find him first. "Judy's asked me 5 times if I've seen him. As I told her." Rebecca leans closer to me. "I'm only his ex-wife, we weren't exactly communicating brilliantly before he headed off. There's more chance of him coming out from his hiding place for Sam but he's refusing to budge from the x-box, like his father he's decided to be shy."

We both move back to let another guest past, Rebecca whispering to me that he's a cousin twice removed and that Judy's not even sure how he managed to grab an invite, I already feel sorry for the Boss, like he's some sort of circus act. "How is he?"

"Charles?" She sighs as I nod my head, her face crumpling. "Not the same, he doesn't smile, it's as if someone's turned off his sense of humour." Her eyes widen as she looks at me. "Please don't think I expected him to come back and pretend that nothing's happened but well, it's hard for Sam. He's waited all this time and Charles is trying I know he is but I wonder if we'll ever get the real man back. It's all just a mess."

A mess that's all my fault. "Sorry."

"Oh Molly." I turn to see Judy descending towards me, a brightness in her eyes now that wasn't there before as if she's finally had a decent night's sleep, welcoming the hug she gives me. "I'm sorry, he must be having a bad day, god knows where he is." She pulls away, holding onto my shoulders as she looks me square in the eye. " I'm sorry. All I can suggest is that you pop round another day or that maybe he gives you a call?" The final suggestion is asked with a questioning tone as if she's not sure herself it that's a possibility, looking around her, hopeful that he's gonna' appear before looking back at me, apologising for her part in this. "I thought this would be a good idea, an informal way of seeing everyone again but possibly not. I think it's all too much".

Patting her on the arm I try and reassure her. "It's alright honest, I understand."

"It is wonderful to see you and well you look beautiful Molly." She looks me up and down, a wave of embarrassment rolls over me, that I've gone to such an effort, the pretty dress that I felt good in when I tried it on, now uncomfortable, almost claustrophobic. "Please stay for awhile." Not wanting to upset her I nod, but I need to be alone, making my excuses and moving from them; taking myself away so that I can deal with my disappointment.

When he'd first told me that the house was magical at Christmas I'd imagined a big tree 'n' some over the top decorations but I can see what he means now if it's as lovely as this for a summer gathering. The garden's been decorated with thousands of tiny fairy lights; covering trees and bordering old walls, it's like something out a film, helped by the soft violin music floating down the garden, following me as I wander about. Taking my shoes off I carry them, letting my toes dig into the soft grass, needing to feel something other than the pain in my heart. I'm looking for somewhere I can be by myself, where I don't have to look up and occasionally smile at some stranger. I'm about to return to the house when I spot an old wooden swing, tucked away in the corner of the garden, hung up on the branch of an impressive tree and sit down. I smile to myself as it creaks thinking of a young Boss man sitting here; looping my fingers round the old cord rope, keeping a hold of my champagne flute in one hand and my shoes in the other as I tilt my head back, pushing with my feet until I'm gently swaying. It feels good as if for a minute I can let go; that it's keeping my tears away as the gentle motion soothes me as if I was a five year old kid.

"Hello" I spill some of my drink as I sit up, searching around me for the voice that I recognise; that I've not heard for over 2 years, eventually I find him, leaning against the thick trunk of the tree, he could have been there all the time, camouflaged in the shade. His hands are in his pockets, his legs crossed at his ankles as if he's relaxed but everything about him is tense, the muscles in his neck taught. "Have you been alright?" The sound of his voice is beautiful, a melodic tilt to it that I've never been able to replicate in my nut.

"Yes thanks." I croak, my throat treacherously tight. Tucking my feet under me I stay where I am, balancing, hairs rising on the back of my neck, my heart pounding in my chest. I want to ask him how he is, tell him how sorry I am but there's something about him that makes me think he wouldn't want to hear that so I keep quiet, biding my time.

He kicks an old root, his mouth moving as if he's going to say something but no words come out. I wonder if I'd walk past him in the street, he's changed, older; last week's six o'clock shadow on his face as if he doesn't want to be him or is trying to persuade people that he's not the same man that went away. "You want a drink?" Nervously I hold my glass out towards him, the humourless laugh that he gives hurting me somewhere in my gut.

'You're alright. If I started I don't think I'd ever stop. I've been advised to stay off it."

"Yeah I got that advice too. Piece of shit." I knock it back, then look at the empty glass as if it was gonna' refill itself.

"Mum said that you've stayed in."

I'm ashamed as I look across the lawn, watching as room by room the grand house is illuminated. "Couldn't imagine doin' anything else." I answer softly.

"You were a good soldier Molly." Past tense. He's right though, I study my glass, the few remaining drops of champagne sticking to the side, not budging, a bit like my career. His sigh makes me look up at him again, his hand tugging on the back of his neck where his curls used to be. "Did they make you go to a shrink?"

"Yup, poor bloke. Said his life would never be the same again. Don't think I have a good affect on people in my life. Saying that once managed to get 5 Abba songs into one of my sessions. I was well pleased with myself." I say proudly, giggling to myself at the memory.

"Did he realise?" The shutters that are in his eyes are lifted, for a second, a warmth coming back into them before it's gone, replaced by a wariness.

I start the gentle motion of the swing again, needing something to do so that I don't stare, make him feel uncomfortable. "He said 'the day before you came' I felt I was good at my job. 'The Name of the game' is that there is no game and he weren't trying to trick me and the sessions were built on trust and 'when all is said is done' he was just trying to do his job 'n' he'd be grateful if I let him. We bonded a bit after that, became easier 'n' in the end it helped, really he just listened but it's good to have someone to talk to, that ain't gonna' judge or tell you that time'll help.

"What does help?"

"For me, you coming back. Knowing that your gonna' see your son grow up, be part of your family's life."

"That's very noble of you." His tone is bordering on arrogant, his face tightening into a look of disbelief.

I don't elaborate, don't tell him that I'd do anything to atone for the last few years, congratulate him if he'd told me that he was gonna' give it a bash with Rebecca again or trawled through dating sites with him to find whoever he thought was perfect; anything as long as he was home, safe. "It's the truth. I'm sorry" I mutter.

His eyebrows are raised as if he's apologising, his hand picking at the bark on the tree, there's minutes of silence before he turns and looks at me again. "All I wanted was to come home, to see…." The sentence is left unfinished, he sighs looking up at the tree, exhaling a breath, his tall frame folds until he's sitting on the ground. Dusk is starting to draw in, the illumination from the white twinkling lights highlighting the hollow in his cheeks, defining the dark circles under his eyes; he looks like shit. "How are the lads?"

"Had kinda' lost touch."

"Why?"

I stand up and walk a few steps, my footsteps silent without my shoes, there's a look of fear as I get too close, so copying him I sit on the grass. "Loads of reasons why, I won't bore you."

"Do."

We stare at each other, he gives in first looking down at the grass, tugging the short blades with his long fingers, the sound of the party still going on behind us. I wonder how long it'll be before someone finds us, our conversation uncomfortable but I don't want it to end, want it just to be him and I. "At first." His head snaps up towards me as he listens but I'm still struggling to find the words, I'd never admitted to myself never mind anyone else why I'd shut them out. "I struggled to get through every day, I didn't want anyone around me. They only tried to help and they couldn't. It was the only way I knew how to cope."

"I understand. I feel the same." The sound of laughter reaches us, I watch him, his head turning towards the sound, like a child hearing a new noise, his expression a carefully controlled mask. I look too, watching as a couple dance, the previous orchestral music replaced by a latest chart song, words sung about secret loves, alone I'm sure in thinking that the words could sum up my feelings about us. "Do you ever need people again?" He asks uncertainly, the hint of emotion back in his voice. Looking at him again, taking the opportunity whilst his focus is fixed elsewhere, watching as the lights create shadows of wistfulness on his still proud face then I look away, scared that he'll catch me. Along with him I keep watching the dancers, there's something hypnotic about their movements; as if there bodies need to be close, their movements away from each other taxing followed by the fluidity of their bodies as they come together again; the relief that they're back in each other's arms.

"Yeah, people creep in, become important but they can't replace….." This time it's me that leaves the sentence unfinished, I can feel the tears building as I think of how lonely I've felt, at how he probably feels the same way 'n' I can't do anything to help him. He's watching me, his eyes narrowing as he contemplates what I say, I smile at him; trying to reassure, receiving a half smile that's a facial muscle moving 'n' nothing else in return then it folds into a passive expression.

He sighs after a beat. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, you need to find your own way." I try to get up as graceful as possible with a glass and a pair of shoes in my hands, knowing that I've out stayed my welcome. The manners that have been instilled in him since he was a child meaning that he follows my lead and then we stand together, neither knowing what to say to each other. Eventually it's him, one hand coming out of his pocket, scratching his chin.

"Well it was good seeing you Molly."

"Yeah, you too Sir." I start to walk away, the grass suddenly cold under my feet when I realise that this could be the last time I ever see him, turning ready to raise my voice I stop, the words unspoken. He's standing, almost serene, watching me. We stay staring at each other, for seconds, minutes or hours I'm not sure before there's something that flickers behind his eyes and I remember. With three paces I'm in front of him, my hands grasping his hollowed cheeks and pulling his face down towards me until our foreheads are touching, for a minute I think he's gonna' pull away and then it's as if the fight goes out of his body, his head pressing against mine as I whisper. "If you ever need anything 'n' I mean anything then I'll do anything, 'cause I am so so sorry." My voice breaks but I don't care; he's here.

Too soon he pulls away, the moment ending, dull dark eyes looking down at me, nothing in them for me to read as he starts walking backwards. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about. I'd do it again."

"I wouldn't let you." The words are blurted out before I've even thought about them but it's the truth.

Finally there's the exhaled short laugh that I know, his tongue in the side of his mouth as he shakes his head then he smiles at me, like he used to do when he couldn't work me out, his eyes going to his feet and then when he looks back up he's sad, his head titled to the side. "Can I ask you something?" I nod, waiting until he's worked whatever it is that's going on in his nut. "Would you understand if….well… if I said that all that was important to me was that you were okay, that I knew that somewhere in this fucked up world you were somewhere, happy…. for the moment." The furrow on his brow, the one that I want to wipe away deepens, another step taken away from me. "That's what I want you to do for me."

"Yeah...but….."

"Dad."

He doesn't answer Sam, still watching me as if giving me time to say something but I don't; shutting up and looking at the ground, only lifting my gaze when I hear the words, smiling as I see the obvious bond that Rebecca maybe can't 'cause she's too close to them both. "Hello scamp"

Charles' shirt sleeve is tugged, his son trying to get him to move in the direction of the house."I couldn't find you, and I overheard mum saying that you had buggered off somewhere and I've just got to this level and…. Hello Molly." Sam's wide brown eyes are turned towards me, his face breaking into an even bigger grin. "You could come too and see, because this boss level is awesome and Dad is it true that you had a paddling pool and you wouldn't share it and you once asked Molly if she was the Queen."

I can feel the heat travelling up my face waiting for a row or something but he doesn't, smiling at Sam before looking at me; a hint of apology. "Sorry Molly, I'm going to have to go."

"No worries."

He hasn't left though, as if he's remembered something, turning and giving Sam a look as if to say 'give me a minute', a questioning raise of his eyebrow towards me. "You were going to say something?"

Swallowing nervously, clearing my throat I say what I want to say, "Just come back to me Boss, that was all." Both eyebrows shoot up with surprise, his head almost recoiling with shock 'n' I think I've blown it, rubbing the back of my head with my free hand, trying to do some damage limitation, a long uncomfortable pause where I can't bear to look at him. "If you want that is, 'n' when your ready, if…..."

"Dad says he'll try."

Charles is crouched down next to Sam, still holding his son's hand as he looks at me - scrutinising my reaction, I grin, a huge big grin, relief lifting me 'cause really I can't ask anymore than that, his face softens, it's as if his eyes are shedding some of the stress. "Tell your dad thanks Sam." And with that I turn, for the first time in years I think I might sleep alright tonight.

 **I'd like to thank the wonderful Jen for suggesting the inclusion of Sam when I was struggling with the wording of finishing the chapter with a glimpse of hope - love the supportive OG ff community - thank you! Also I'd like to take this opportunity to apologise on behalf of my employers for not giving me a long enough lunch break to upload this earlier, they have really no consideration towards my playing with words :)**

 **Hope it's okay. x**


	8. People Help the People

There's a humidity in the air now, sunshine filling the days 'n' making everything just that little bit more shiny it's not that it's just 'cause summer's arrived it's almost as if the world was waiting for him to come back. Even the seagulls don't sound so angry as I pound my way along the promenade, as if they've toned down their fury, maybe 'cause there's more fish in the sea or something 'n' Harold seems to come back with an extra sway to his walk, greeting me with a more cheerful miaow and I'm not even gonna' mention Smurf and Libby - you really don't want me to go there, let's just say that the lighter nights have given them even more stamina. And for me there's hope; a glimmer but it's there.

My life hasn't gone back to how it was before, don't think it ever will. When I look back I realise how easy I had it, even with my shitty upbringing; how everything had seemed uncomplicated before I was deployed but it ain't as bad as it was, when I wake now I have a minute of panic then I remember that he's back where he should be and you've gotta be grateful for small things right? I sleep better at night now too, still dream but they're not horrific; a little bit confusing at times loads of images shoved together but it's like my brains sifting through them sorting them out for me while I do the manual shit like running at 6am in the morning, my eyes flicking towards the sunrise; waiting until the sun's high in the sky before looking out to see - some things you just can't change.

I'm not the only one in the morning anymore either, adding to a feeling that I'm not in life alone now. Tourists or god knows who sitting on the benches rather than tucked up in their houses, coming out and taking in the view, drinking coffee and I even smile, not saying hello 'cause chances are I'll shout at them, the music in my ears distorting my ability to speak at a normal level but I'm engaging more, happy for life to be going on around me but still waiting, checking my phone every 5 minutes and at the end of each day feeling a bit sad that he ain't been in touch but that's selfish I know that.

There's things that remind me of the past, it would be hard for there not to be when for nearly 6 glorious months you were tuned to one person, consciously and unconsciously watching them for every single little detail; like the bloke that's sitting there with a silver thermos cup, like what the boss used to have, having a giggle to myself at the memories of how we used to bounce off each other with our humour until I realise that I'm being rude, he's staring at me, giving the bloke an apologetic smile as I run past hi…. I'm taking my headphones out as I come to a stop. "Sir?"

"Thought you were just going to run past me."

"Well no disrespect, but what with that" My fingers hover around my face "shit going on, you don't exactly look like yourself." Way to go Dawesy, but he laughs, tilting his head whilst he thinks of what I've said or what response he's gonna' make.

"You telling me that I don't look good with a beard?" Is his chosen reply as he scrunches his eyes against the slowly building light.

I shrug, a grin on my face as I take a sip of my water, thinking, there's a playfulness to his eyes that's warming; encouraging me to keep this going, a hint of him, so I grin, toying with the question for a minute longer then I sit down next to him looking down towards the sea, shrugging my shoulders as I find that I can't think of anything witty. "You don't look like you, if you know what I mean." He nods as if he's fine with that answer, going back to stare straight ahead at the sunrise, he obviously doesn't have the same fear that I have, that in someway it jinxed the mission that fateful day.

We fall into a comfortable silence, like he's happy just being here in Clacton-on-Sea, always got to be a first I suppose. "What you doin' here?" My words are soft and slow, eventually interrupting the stillness.

"On this bench?"

"Clacton. Did you come to see me?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." He must see the confusion on my face at my answer, he moves slightly, his shoulders creating more space between us. "I don't know, it seemed like a good idea."

"It's good to see you." I don't get an answer as he takes a drink, his eyes following another joggers path along the sea front, whether it's to make him feel better I don't know, a sudden awkwardness to our conversation; but I shuffle along the bench 'till I'm leaving enough space for someone else to sit in between us, fiddling with my earphones as I try to untangle them, wishing I could think of something right to say.

"Tell me about you, what you've been up to, what trouble you've got yourself into?" I could kid myself that there's a tenderness to his question, as if it pleases him that I'm still me but his eyes are hard belying the slight upturn of his mouth; a contradiction that he still expects me to be a gobshite.

"Me trouble, nah, I've been good. Learnt my lesson didn't I?"

"Don't believe that for a minute, surely in the last couple of years you've fought some cause for someone, oh I don't know, wound up your CO, met someone?"

My eyes are fixed on his adam's apple, watching it as it bobs down 'n' back up, then I let my eyes drift up towards his, again there's nothing there behind his expression to tell me if I imagined the slight discomfort in his voice when he asked if I'd met someone. "Fraid I've got nothing interesting to tell you, I've not even been up on a charge."

In my head there's millions of things I could tell him. That I've got an A level - shit grade but at least I know some decent words now and I'd wanted to do it so that if he ever came back he would be proud of me, that I could tell him that his belief in me had made me want to be someone better. I want to tell him that Smurf is shagging my flatmate 'n' I've got to listen to them all the time and see his face light up with humour 'cause like me he'd see the funny side of it and then of course that there's a bloke called Bill who's kept me going all these years 'n' I think he'd really like him but I keep quiet, shy for once in my life trying to think of some safe conversation 'cause with all of the above at some point it would come back to how hard it's been without him. "I don't want to ask if your alright.. 'cause I know that you ain't 'n' it's a stupid question but" I stress the word, peaking at him out the side of my eye. "On a scale of 1-10 how shit is it to be back?"

"Offfff good question." Uncrossing his arms for a second he leans over towards me, his fingers centimetres away on the wooden bench, I almost want to reach over grab them, a magnetic pull towards them, but he's watching me, still, waiting for me to look back at him as he looks at me as if he hasn't put in enough effort; that he's failed. "I'd say at least a 12. It's good to be back obviously, preferably, but well I'm not used to being the centre of attention."

"Didn't get that impression when you were swinging a microphone around in your hand 'n' refusing to let anyone else up on that stage."

The soft morning sunlights warming his face, shielding the visual evidence of the last 2 years as he smiles, his perfect cheekbones rising before he exhales, shaking his head as if he's remembered something. "You were beautiful that night. Not that you weren't always but, think it was the first time I realised that you were a little bit insecure."

"What you liked that?"

"It was cute." A flicker of sentiment lights up his eyes. "It made a change from you always thinking you were bloody right." He turns towards me, his eyes hovering over my face as if he's finally seeing me. "I wanted to protect you"

"You did that alright."

There's a slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes before his face falls, his eyes softening to the point I want to give him a hug. "Anyway, I can't pick up a newspaper or switch on the news without fear that I'm going to be on it, if I attempt to go to the shops there's someone wanting to take my picture."

"That does sound a bit shit 'n' you know your luck."

"What?"

"This" This time I'm bolder; leaning over and circling my finger near his face. "Is gonna' take off 'n' everyone's gonna' be gagging to have a beard like that. They'll call it the Charles or something or possibly the Charlie."

"You didn't just say that did you?" He wants to laugh, his teeth clamping into his bottom lip as he watches me giggle like a schoolkid, his head shaking as if he can't believe I had the nerve. " The first time you say my fucking name and not only do you laugh but…. I'm going to kill my mother."

"I like it, it suits you."

The soft chuckle that's melting my heart stops suddenly as if somewhere he's just pressed an off switch, his head tilting to the side as he watches me, the deep v between his eyebrows deepening. "I need to ask you something, and I don't want you to feel that you have to because you don't okay? I'd understand." I nod but already I know that I'm gonna' say yes. "I'm shit company, some days I'd rather not even speak, would prefer to stay in my bed and not face life and I know that I'm grumpy and irrational. I hate it. Can't seem to help it or do anything about it. But I don't want to be alone. I can't." For the first time he lets me see a glimpse of his vulnerability.

"I've told you I'll do anything."

"What even go away with me for a week, put up with me, knowing that I'm probably never going to be able to have a relationship with you or…."

"Without a doubt. 'Cause we're more than that ain't we?"

"Are we?"

"I'll always be here for you 'cause I know it's all fucked up what with what happened but at the end of the day I care for you 'n' if there's anything I can do to help I'll do it. Just remember that I've had to put up with months of you being my bleedin' CO 'n' bossing me about all the time - what could be worse than that."

"Suppose you have a point but don't"

"And for part of that you didn't even like me."

I almost jump at the connection of his thumb on my cheek, doing everything to not lean into the surprising contact, I need to be the strong one don't I? That's what Smurf said, so I stay still watching him, taking the positive out of the fact that he's here with me. "Don't care for me too much. I'm broken Molly."

Nodding, 'cause the only answer to that is that we both are, and that's not a conclusive list, there's loads of names I could add from the fall out that day. "The last sunrise I ever saw was with you." My cheek feels bare when the contact goes, as if his thumb belonged there, closing my eyes I sigh, turning towards the offending sun which has had no respect for him having been gone, rising and setting every sodding day without him. "Couldn't bare to watch them, didn't seem right." For the first time in 2 and a half years I focus on the orange star, trying to appreciate it's beauty as it continues its journey above the horizon.

"Ditto?"

My eyes snap shut again tightly, trying to stop the feeling that I'm gonna' cry at the all too familiar word that has somehow over the years become the most romantic thing ever said, swallowing making sure that there ain't gonna' be any emotion in my voice as I ask. "So when we going?" I steal myself to look at him, seeing his gaze fixed on the distance, his face tight as if he's annoyed with himself.

"As soon as you can get leave organised. I'll text you, then you've got my number." He starts to move, standing and for a minute I think he's just gonna' walk away then he turns and looks down at me. "What you up to for the rest of the day?"

Smiling at his attempt at normal conversation I start to put my earphones in, I'm gonna let him go first, then it won't be as if I'm following him or anything. "I need to go and see Bill, he's got a shop, a newsagents, it's just his arthritis has been playing up 'n' I normally pop in and give him a hand, his wife died a couple of years ago 'n'... why you laughing at me?"

"You haven't changed have you?" He doesn't give me the chance to answer; exhaling a snort. "I'll look forward to hearing from you and thank you Molly."

I watch him as he walks away, he'd die if he knew that already I was missing him. "SIR?" His body tenses first before he pivots; his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he looks at me warily. "Do you want me to bring the razors or will you?"

 **Ahh thank you for being patient! Sorry but sometimes real life does unfortunately need to come before my love of playing with words. Thanks for reading and as always for your support. x**


	9. I'm Fading

**Thanks everyone for your continued support :) xx**

"I don't think gin compliments cola." The sound of his voice startles me, instinctively turning towards him as I feel the offending liquid land on my hand at my jolting movement. He's watching me; the usual guarded expression on his face as he attempts a smile. I can tell that he's shattered, the bags under his eyes almost violet with the effort of a day's travelling and god knows when he last slept. I'd watched him on the ferry as he'd fought against his eyes shutting as if he was scared to go to sleep, wishing that I could have gone over to him and hugged him or sang him a lullaby like what I'd do with one of the little ones at home.

"Not a very secret stash is it then?" He shakes his head in agreement, raising his eyebrows as he walks towards me and takes the glass out of my hand, sipping it, wincing, handing it back to me and looking at the view that I'd previously been mesmerised with before he'd come through. "Your mum said that I needed to replace it. She didn't think she could get through a holiday with your dad without it." She'd also told me loads of other things, her voice low as she'd helped me put stuff in the back of the car, her eyes flitting with worry towards her son, then in the middle of something serious that would make me swallow trying to keep away the panic of mucking it all up; of not supporting him she'd drop something in like the alcoholic drink stash under the sink or the piles of trashy novels in the basket in the third bedroom.

At last I get the first genuine snort of the day. His eyes sparkling for a minute as he looks down at me, his mouth imitating a smile. "Not too good that you've hit it on the first night is it?"

I'm not sure what to say, instead I go back to watching the view, something comforting about the white tipped waves breaking over some rocks under the sea, a moodiness to them that I never get in Clacton. "I made some dinner."

"Sorry I'm not very hungry."

"It's alright it'll keep." 8pm and I'm unsettled, in a strange place with someone who I have a heartfull of love for but don't really know. I'm hungry too, hadn't wanted to eat without him but now feel that I can't, wondering if I could get away with a bowl of cereal, if he would hear the sound of my munching from his room next to mine, feel uncomfortable that 'cause of him I hadn't had any dinner.

"I've missed that."

"What?" I ask confused 'cause he's looking at me as he says it and I'm sure it ain't the gin and coke which is the only thing I'm holding.

"Your West Ham top."

With that one statement I've forgiven him, not that I was seriously in a mood with him or anything, just that I'd seen the side of him that he'd talked about; his mum had talked about, where he went 8 hours in a car without speaking a word 'n' if I dared to say anything he'd looked at me like I'd just informed him that I'd maybe not packed something important in my med bergen. "I've missed that."

"What?"

"That cheeky look that you do so well." He looks embarrassed, a flush of red making it's way up his neck. A silence falls over us again, this cottage does quiet well, only the hum of the fridge in the background whilst outside the french doors nature's practically having a bleedin' rave. I'm not sure that I get this place, can't see why someone would choose to come here unless they were a hermit or something. "So do your parents own this place?"

"No, this is my Aunts', my parents have a place in Lake Garda."

"Could we not have gone bleedin' there, warm air for a start."

"Sorry." He says that a lot I'm noticing, almost by default that he's gonna' be in the wrong or has done something he needs to apologise for rather than the old him who'd have come out with some smart reply that would have had me giggling. "I couldn't have coped with the flight or the apartment, too many people about." The back of his neck is being massaged as he smiles at me, as if he's begging for me to understand. Of course I do, inside I'm kicking myself for being brash; for taking the piss. I hold my empty glass up, offering to get him one too, but he shakes his head looking away from me as he stares outside. My footsteps are loud as I walk across to the island, glad when I get there that I can turn and look at him as I start to pour my drink. I'm just about to ask him if there's anything I can get him when he tenses, his whole body becoming one mass of tightened muscles. "You did shut the gate didn't you?"

"Was I meant to?"

"For fuck sake Molly I specifically told you to shut the gate after we drove in."

"I can't remember." I wonder if the shop is open 24 hours, I'm maybe needing something stronger. "Why?"

"There's sheep in the garden."

"They're everywhere on this island." Replying I take a gulp of neat gin.

"That's why we shut the gate." He reaches the door and turns towards me, his face set with anger. "Have you lost the ability to listen to a simple instruction."

I really can't see what damage a few sheep can do but sensibly I follow him, leaving the warmth of the kitchen and reaching up for a jacket, putting my feet into welly boots that are probably 3 sizes too big but at least they close the gap between my pyjama shorts and my bare legs. As he opens the door, a gust of wind brings in a batch of leaves that swirl around before landing at his feet, he shoots me a dirty look as if that's my fault too, raising one eyebrow as he looks down at me. "Can you remember to shut this fucking door behind you?" And without waiting for an answer he goes; as if he can't bear to wait for me. I'm a few paces behind him wondering what the fuck I'm gonna' do; I don't exactly have an affinity with nature.

Like naughty kids the offending woollies take one look at him and scarper, comically baaing to each other as they go - a panicked bottleneck at the gaily swinging open gate before with a final push they're all free and I can turn and look at the now empty garden. With a nervous snort I look up at him, trying really hard not to giggle even with my top teeth painfully dug into my bottom lip - there's only one thing to say. "Shit." And then I laugh. There is literally hundreds of sheep shit. You can't move for sheep shit.

"It's not funny." The rain has dampened his curls, a drop of water dripping down his nose as we stand, staring at each other, his breathing is laboured whether from the stress or the few strides he'd taken around the walled garden to encourage a few stragglers I don't know but it's warmed up his complexion 'n' there's just a little hint of his mouth turning upwards as he turns away and surveys the scene, only looking back when I get my giggling under control. "You've got a lot of shit to clear up Dawesy."

Raising a challenging eyebrow towards him I turn and head back to the porch, the heat nipping my cold legs as I find what I was looking for. He's still standing in the same position when I return, a look of disbelief on his face as I twirl the kids beach spade in my hand; with a professional - in my opinion - flick I get the first of many shits over the garden wall, moving onto the next one. "Butlins 2008 Tiddlywinks Champion. The only real holiday I ever had before my dad went off on the sick 'n' we couldn't afford anymore."

"You've only had one holiday?" He has to shout to get his voice over the strengthening blustering wind, coming over and taking my pink spade out of my hands, kneeling down as he flicks one over into the field, smiling up at me as he hands me it back, watching my mouth as he waits for an answer.

"Yeah, loved it though. Quality not quantity as they say. Good memories." I get rid of another 3 before he takes another shot, this one being caught by the wind just as it was about to clear the wall, he walks over to it, every few steps turning to me as if wanting me to elaborate. "There weren't as many of us then neither. Just me and my sisters and one brother before they decided they wanted a bleedin' football team."

He returns to my side and hands me the spade back. "Must of been hard."

"Nah didn't know any better did I? Thought it was normal, didn't realise they were rich buggers in the world whose parents or family had holiday homes all over the world."

"I always wanted a brother, or days I was really desperate a sister, holidays were always a bit boring?"

I shiver, the battering rain and wind finally seeping through to my skin. "I craved boredom, would never get a minutes peace." He's moved closer so I'm having to tip my chin up to stare into his eyes that are finally exposing what's going on inside as if he's not got the strength to hide anything from me.

"An only child is a lonely child." He says sadly, exhaling a breath. "When I was out there, sometimes i'd think that everyone would have forgotten about me, that I wouldn't be in anyone's thoughts. Spend hours imagining everyone getting on in their lives, having given up on me."

"Never. Not one minute, even when I was sleeping I'd dream about you."

Taking one step back, he studies me as if trying to see if my expression is saying anything different then he's cocking his head to the side. "Come on let's go back inside, you look frozen."

"You believe me - don't you?" I don't think he does, like it's easier clinging onto the sadness rather than the hope which might lead to some happiness, his head dipped away from me so that I can't read him. "Cause you'd better or I'll tell everyone that you left the gate open." His laugh is carried away on a gust but it's there. "And I'll tell them that you never managed to get one shit over the wall with your pink girly spade."

"Oh Dawes, fighting talk." He opens the door, this time waiting for me to be in the warmth before closing it behind him, isolating us in the comfort of the house; taking my sodden jacket off me and hanging it up. "I'll tell mum that you drank her best gin with cola."

"Yeah and tell her it tasted rank." I head over to the cooker, turning the gas on. "Tell you what, I'm starving after all that hard work." His hands come onto my shoulders, heat travelling along my arms as he gently tugs me away, his mouth coming closer to my ear.

"How about as an apology for being such a dick today you go get a shower, get heated up and I'll sort this."

Nodding I turn to face him, reaching up, stroking his cheek then I put my hands on my hips; starting to walk backwards. "Just a bit of early holiday dick waving always happens."

Xx-xx

The kitchen has that haziness of condensation when I come back in, the windows steamed up as if protecting us from the darkness outside making the table set with glasses of wine romantic. I almost want to pinch myself that I'm here, with him. He smiles briefly going back to draining the pasta, motioning to a seat with his head. There's only minutes before he's setting a plate in front of me, sitting himself down but it's been long enough for my overactive imagination to pretend that we are a couple 'n' that afterwards we'll cuddle up on the couch or something.

He shovels a mouthful of perfectly wound round his fork pasta into his mouth; taking a sip of wine and smiling at me. "Who'd ever have thought when we first met at Brize that one day I'd be making you dinner."

"Well technically I made the dinner." I'm regretting my choice of food as it happens 'cause unlike him I can't seem to get it into my gob without smearing my face with it or leaving half a ton of spaghetti hanging out, using the opportunity of taking a sip of wine to try and wipe some sauce off my chin - it ain't attractive. In the end I take a few sips, aware that he's watching me the whole time, nervously trying not to flirt with him as I do my best impression of a pissed off Sandhurst educated officer. "So let's have this conversation when you make me dinner, shall we?"

"Anyway it's good to have some quality time together." He interrupts; grinning as he repeats words that I've said previously to him as if he's enjoying this game, going back to eating his dinner with a smile still on his face, seconds passing before he looks across and catches me staring at him, his expression softens as he puts down his fork, "I've been thinking…"

"Oh dear that does sound dangerous James. You've been thinking about your beard again ain't you?"

"I have."

"Well, we have a duty of care and…." I make a show of thinking of a solution. "...If you feel that it's compromising your stunning good looks then we've got a moral obligation to do something about it…"

"What we gonna' do?" He asks softly.

"Well your gonna', I mean you're going to finish that delicious meal that **I** cooked for you, pour yourself and me another glass of wine and let's get it on."

"Get it on?."

"Off, get it off," I practically shout as I stand to take my plate away, my face burning with embarrassment at my Freudian slip. "I meant get it off."

His tongue is trapped in the side of his mouth as he fights his bloody amusement at my discomfort, his head going from side to side. "I'm not sure that sounds any better."

"Piss off Jamesy, you know what I meant."

"Jamesy? I must be winning you round with my grumpiness and evident lack of humour."

In the end I lie back in the empty bath, two finished bottles of wine sitting beside the tap as I watch him shaving, not saying anything as the last few months of stress is stripped from his face. His gaze finds mine in the mirror, a half wink making me move some facial muscles into a smile. "I've missed you." I whisper. Waiting as he continues the motions with the razor, holding my breath as he turns, wiping his face on the towel as he leans over towards me, closing my eyes as his lips are pressed into my forehead, held there as if he's speaking silently then he pulls back and holds his hand out to me, helping me keep my balance as slightly tipsy I clamber out the tub.

"Think it's time you hit your pit Dawes." He stands back as if he's awkward, releasing the contact as soon as it's safe to do so. "Can't have you half arsing around tomorrow because you've not had enough sleep."

I mock salute, stepping around him. "I've still got fuckin' sheep shit to deal with 'n' I'll tell you something for nothing I ain't gonna' relax till there ain't one teeny, tiny bit of…."

"The antidote for 50 enemies is one friend." He looks surprised as if he's not sure why the words left his mouth. "Aristotle said that." Frowning he explains, his mouth opening to say something else but I'm quicker;

"You ain't friends with someone 'cause of circumstances or guilt, it's cause as long as they're alive the world is a better place to be 'n' if they weren't; well they would have left such a legacy that if you took away the sadness 'n' the anger that they'd gone they would have made you a better person." Curtseying I look up at him "I said that.", hiccuping, screwing my face up. "Can we get some vodka tomorrow, I don't think that wines agreeing with me."

"We maybe need to disagree on that." He snorts, as if he's a combination of amused and confused. "Goodnight Molly and…. Thank you."

"Your welcome Sir 'n' just so you know." Holding onto the frame of the door for balance I give my best smile, "when you wake me up in the morning I like tea…"

"Two sugars and easy on the milk.. How could I forget."

That's strange. "You never ever bleedin' made me a cup."

"Piss off Dawesy and just so you know seeing as you never made me a…."

"Coffee, and don't pollute the delicate taste with sugar or milk, yeah yeah I know. Goodnight." My bedroom door shuts behind me, replaying the sound of his chuckle over 'n' over in my head as I lean against the door; already I'm missing him.


	10. I know you care

"There's no soddin' wifi." Are my first words to him this morning as I yawn and stretch walking into the kitchen, my feet cold on the bare stone floor. He's up before me, standing eating his cereal at the breakfast bar, one hand reassuringly on his mug, his shoulders tense as I lean up and give him a peck on his cheek. "Next you'll be telling me there's not a Top Shop."

"There's not a top shop." He grins at me, shovelling another spoonful of coco-pops into his mouth, I grin back; there's something nostalgic about seeing him eating like this, often in the FOB he'd stand eating up as if sitting down was gonna' waste time.

I open three drawers before I find a spoon, going and standing beside him, he's had a shower, a lovely fresh lemony scent coming from him, I'm like the bisto kid except with undercover skills, inhaling as I dip my spoon in his bowl waiting for him to make a comment but he doesn't, which is a shame but at least he hasn't told me to piss off. "What's that shit."

"I'm not sure what you're referring to but I'm ready to get offended." He answers eventually after finishing what was in his mouth unlike me who has mastered the art of eating 'n' speaking at the same time; years of not having the luxury of folk waiting to hear what I've got to say.

"The music."

"It's better than your shit. " He says with a pretence of bein' defensive, shifting from one foot to another so that he's angled better to get into a discussion with me.

"We'll have to disagree on that." I shrug, licking the milk of my spoon but pausing as I recognise something. "I know that."

"What Beethoven's Seventh Symphony?"

"No, music from the Kings Speech, my Nan loved that film. Think she had a thing for Colin Firth but she can't stand Helena what's her name. Anyway did you sleep alright? I slept like the bloody dead think it must have been all that fresh air. Or the wine." I add as an afterthought earning myself a snort of agreement from him.

There's a pause in our conversation as we both watch each other as if we're not sure what the correct etiquette is for this, well he's thinking that I'm sure, I'm just wondering if I'd get away with leaning up and licking off the spot of milk on his chin. "Sorry didn't make you a cup of tea." He's not looking at me now, more interested in his spoon which is collecting all the chocolatey krispies off the side. "Looked in and you were sound asleep, didn't feel right waking you what with this meant to be some sort of holiday." His eyebrows are raised at the end of his short speech, his forehead becoming a mass of lines before they're released as he meets my eyes and smiles. "Thought you should at least have a long lie for the first morning."

"It's" I look round him, double checking that 3 hours ain't passed since I looked at my bedside clock. "7 bloody 30 am."

"Exactly, you can thank me later?" He picks up the bowl, hogging it as he spoons the milk, there's part of me that thinks he's being serious, spose' you can take the bloke out of sandhurst 'n' all that.

"What we gonna' do today." I'm thinking not much, in fact for once in nearly 2 years I'd like to stay in my pyjamas, find the stash of bonkbusters that Judy had been talkin' about and laze my day away on the couch. "The weathers' a bit shit so I don't think we should venture too far."

"Well, you're going to clear up." He hands me the bowl, smirking at my look of disgust. "think we should have some rules you know like whoever makes dinner doesn't have to clear up that sort of thing."

"You put some cereal in a bowl and added milk."

"And also I'm not really a fan of radio one so i'd appreciate if you maybe just left it on Classical and is there any chance seeing as we're having to share a bathroom that you maybe tidy up after yourself" He screws his face up, trying not to bloody laugh. "And do we need to cover gates."

"Your taking the piss ain't you?"

"Yes and it feels good. Oh and Dawes, you've got a bit of milk on your chin." His hand comes out to wipe it, my body leaning towards the anticipation of contact when he stops 'n' something crosses his eyes which makes my body shift it's weight back to neutral ground.

"You alright mate?" I ask softly.

It's as if he's remembering something, his dark irises flicking unfocused from side to side, he looks down at me, his eyes widening as he swallows repeatedly. When he speaks it's wary, unsure, a tone I've never heard before, a hint of a break to it. "For a minute I forgot. For a second I was…" He looks down at my hand which has found the way to his arm, he takes one step, removing himself, still watching me then with two deep breaths he's striding out of the room.

The room becomes unbearably quiet when he leaves, that way that I can hear the ticking of the clock, the sound of a door banging shut and my heart pounding in my chest even over the sound of the radio. I don't know what to do. For the first time I wonder if I've taken on too much, copying him 'n' taking a few breaths, realising that the best thing I can do is keep busy, tidy up so that there isn't anything else to stress him about. A cloth in my hand as I scrub every work surface, wash 'n' tidy everything away, all whilst listening but there's nothing.

Eventually, I sit down on the couch, pulling a book from the bookcase and wrapping a blanket around me as I fight the urge to knock on his door 'n' beg him to let me comfort him. Shit I can't even phone his mum what with no soddin' reception. Restlessly I put the book down, raising my knees and resting my chin on them, trying to keep my own tears at bay. 9 weeks he's been back, 63 days, 1512 hours which is about.. Well.. a shittin' lot of numbers in seconds and from them he's only had a precious few probably less than 60 seconds where he's forgotten. That's a bit scary.

"Hey" I speak first, no sound, then I knock. "Sir."

"What."

It's enough, slowly I open the door, staying within the doorframe not pushing it too much. I've never been in his room yet, the door always shut, making me unaware that he'd chosen a room with a single bed not that he's in it, instead I have to peer round the door finding him lying on the couch that's placed against the wall, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his breathing regular; too regular as if he's tightly controlling it. "I've made you a coffee, well I think I've made you a coffee." I look down at the liquid which looks as if somehow it's separated; I really didn't think it would be so hard to make. "Don't think I'd put the pod thing in right an' well I had to put it in a second time and it smells shit 'n' I don't know if that's 'cause it's bleedin' coffee or because well, it's shit."

He blinks rapidly. "Do you know any descriptive words other than shit?"

"Yeah well can't use them all up on the first day can I?" Fuck that hurt. "Lulling you into a false sense of security or some shit like that."

There's silence and just as I consider backing out the room he speaks, his voice devoid of any emotion. "If you put the coffee on the table. Thank you."

"Sorry." His sigh in response is enough to have me backtracking out the room as quick as I possibly can. There's only one thing for it - Judy's bonkbusters 'n' possibly some more neat gin.

I turn a page, starting to read again. "You alright?" I'm not really expecting an answer but he's sat down on the armchair opposite me, elbows on his knee and sighed loudly and I kinda think that he possibly wants some attention.

"Were you thinking of getting dressed at any point?" Outside the clouds are gathering, like it's going to pour at any moment and it is Scotland so the odds aren't exactly stacked in our favour. "Nearly the whole day has gone." It's 11.30 and for the last 3 hours I've sat on this couch and engrossed myself in the sexual exploits of the fashion industry and if I'm honest with each page I'm gettin' a new respect for Judy; i wonder if she'll let me borrow any of her books and I'm at a soddin' great bit so I keep reading, well I turn another page. "And I'd quite like to go out."

"Think we'll need waterproofs." Maybe tomorrow morning I'll get up earlier, 'cause there is something really nice about this couch, if I had a list of top ten couches I think it'd make the top and I'd like to choose when I moved my arse of it. I smile though, graciously as I stand and stretch, noticing the way that his eyes are fixed on my legs as a nervous tick starts in his jaw.

He doesn't answer straight away, turning and looking across the bay before looking at me again, he does his smile, the one that doesn't reach his eyes as he stands, "I'll look them out whilst you get dressed. I think there should be some stuff here for the kids that should fit you."

"That would be fantastic thank you."

In the end I stand at the gate waiting, not in waterproof trousers that have been turned up at the ankles and folded down on the waist in a garish purple because I do still have some self respect, attractive it wasn't - I'd rather get wet. Mr outdoors however looks as if he's escaped from a fashion shoot for North Face or some outdoorsy shit as he walks round to the back of the Land Rover and puts our hastily organised picnic in the back - well a flask of coffee and a few fruit shoots from the cupboard before athletically climbing in and driving through. I know he's watching me in the rear view mirror as he stops, waiting and I can't help rolling my eyes as I make a show of checking that I've closed the bleedin' gate properly.

"Where we going?"

Out of habit he looks both ways before driving forward, god knows why, maybe incase there's a boy racer tractor driver, he's still not looking at me. "There's a monument, you get a good view of the pier and supposedly on a clear day you can see back to Oban."

"No chance of that today though."

"Think we'll be lucky, the rain looks as if it might stay off. And it's not too far a walk"

There's an uncomfortable pause, I'm not sure what to say, for someone who had once been so fit this must be seriously shit. "It won't be long mate." I say sadly.

"What?" He looks at me, though he'd probably be best keeping his eyes on the road 'cause there's a few seriously suicidal sheep out there.

"Till you've got your strength up."

"I was thinking of you Molly." That'll be that then, different pages 'n' all.

xx-xx

"Sheep bleedin' stink." How can you be sitting in fresh air and still smell the damn things, christ knows why anyone would have one as a pet, actually do people have sheep as pets? I open my mouth to ask and then close it again, he's miles away, his eyes vague as he looks out towards sea. He might not admit it but he's puffing slightly, the incline hard on him but there's colour in his cheeks and when he'd told me the history, why the monument had been put up he'd been animated, his voice confident as he answered my questions; it were nice, like having the old Boss man back. My fingers pull up a long stem of grass, pulling the seeds off the end as I wait for him to come back to wherever he's retreated to, occasionally peeking out the side of my eye to see if it's passed then eventually, bored, I just stare, watching his face with no idea what's going on in his brain. I wish I were telepathic, mind it's probably best I don't see what he's thinking but it's strange ain't it that there's hundreds of thoughts, images going on behind the chocolate brown worried eyes and I know none of them yet I know every single one that's going on in my nut. Think we maybe need to evolve a bit more, you know learn how to read people better or maybe I need to stop thinking stupid things. His jaw clenches, twice, then he turns catching me staring at him, dropping his gaze to my mouth; I feel a little tinge of excitement in my gut. Okay if I'm honest a huge tinge of excitement….. Maybe he's finally remembering that he had feelings for me…..

"A sheep probably pissed on that."

"What."

He nods, intelligent eyes coming up to mine, he's amused again, I 'spose that's something. "That piece of grass in your mouth. A sheep has probably…."

"Right I get the picture." I try to spit it out, retching but it's stuck to my bleedin' lip, eventually, and I mean eventually he leans over and pulls it away dropping it. "Ruin my bleedin' holiday for me why don't you, I was just gettin' close to nature then."

"Really?" One eyebrow is raised, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards.

"Well, I was thinking that I wouldn't have a sheep as a pet."

He laughs and shakes his head. "Who the fuck do you know that has a pet sheep?" For a fleeting moment it's genuine, the corners of his eyes crinkling, then he looks away, sighing.

"Well you posh folk have gun dogs 'n' ponies or whatever. Whereas the likes of me, we have" I look around for inspiration, dragging my gaze away from him as I move my arse which I'm sures getting wet from sitting on the grass "stinking, grass eating, mingin' arsed sheep."

"No you don't." The genuineness is back, he's trying hard not to laugh.

"Alright we don't but I bet you you've had either a dog or a pony or both."

"I've never had a pony." He moves his head from side to side, pouting at me, it's cute.

"Did you, I dunno', do that stupid swirling a stick thing whilst sitting on a tiny horse?" I know for a fact he did, raising my eyebrows defensively as I remember one of the pictures on the stairs back in Bath.

"School trip. I hated every minute of it."

"Still counts."

Pushing himself up he stands grinning at me, then his hand goes out towards me, happily I take it, there's something about my soul when I'm in contact with him that makes my body happy, my blood seems to be more content as it works through my veins. Tipping my head up I look into his eyes, there's still something there of the horrors that he's seen that he's not letting go but there's a slight twinkle in their depths. "It doesn't count if someone has insider knowledge though does it?"

"Done their homework more like." It's then that I realise that I've still got my hand in his, neither of us have let go, there's only one problem, our backpack is still on the ground and I'm guessing that at any moment he's gonna' release me to get it. I'm just about to put my agility to the test to get it, when I feel my fingers being squeezed and I'm back to looking at him, it's not a hardship.

"Thanks." He says as if he's embarrassed.

"For what.?"

"Being there for them. They appreciated it, it helped."

"Helped me too."

"Good." And with that my hand becomes cold as he breaks the contact, picking up our backpack and slinging it onto his back, I stay where I am, in a way missing him, then he looks behind him, his head flicking in the direction that we're now heading. "Come on Dawes, put some bloody effort in you've sat on your arse for long enough."

"When we get back." I shout. "Can we put on the log fire."

"Would it make you happy or shittin' happy?" He replies back over his shoulder, not stopping, probably due to the serious dark clouds that are starting to roll in from the sea, even the wind has picked up, my hair starting to blow in front of my face.

"Wonderfully deliriously ecstatic." I start to follow him, jogging until I'm beside him, grinning at him as he looks down. "Alright shittin' happy."

His arm goes round my shoulders,stabilising me against him as we make our way down the rocky path. "Of course we can then."

Small steps. They're good ain't they?


	11. Heaven Is A Place On Earth With You

**Thank you for being so patient, I've had a bit of a crap time with work and maybe due to that had a slight hangover that lasted the whole of my days off and meant that any creativity refused to surface! Thanks as always for your support - bloody superstars the lot of you :)**

I'm holding my breath as I stand outside his room; listening. Not daring to widen the small gap any further and invade his privacy. I can't pick up any tell-tale sounds in the stillness; nothing, no sound of movement or even a gentle snore but I'm needing him; Something unsettled about the quietness in the cottage not sitting right with me. Like in a horror movie I gently push the heavy wooden door, slowly letting my eyes adjust to the brightness of the room compared to the darkness of the hall, my right hand holding on to the edge so if it looks as if I'm gonna' disturb him I can stop. After all, if he is sleeping he might not be best pleased with my offer of a bleedin' cup of coffee after our nightly ritual of drinking too much wine.

I let out the breath I've been holding; a cowardly sense of relief he's not gonna' catch me and think I'm prying into his personal space, my eyes flicking quickly over the bleakness of the room with the harsh bedside light highlighting the pristine crisp sheets on the narrow bed, the unpacked kit bag sittin' at the bottom as if he was back in army quarters or worse, still unable to put down roots anywhere. You could almost frame the scene in front of me, call it loneliness 'n' hang it in the Tate. Then I realise my pity for him ain't clever 'cause after all I can't judge; if he saw my room back in Clacton he'd piss himself laughing and tell me what a bleedin' hypocrite I was.

Padding down the hall towards the soft light that's coming from the kitchen I have this hope that I'm gonna' find him standing there, leaning against something 'n' drinking coffee, his face relaxing into a grin as he sees me, turning towards the kettle 'n' flicking it on before pulling me into him and putting his arms around me. Standing there as the reassuring sound of the boiling water takes away any pressure on us to talk but I'll need to keep that thought for another day because the kitchen's empty too, devoid of his comforting presence. A prickle of panic starts to work it's way up the back of my neck, I don't know where he is; the moderate peace that had settled over me since his return starting to slip; then I hear a noise, at first tensing as I struggle to work out what it is, but I think my bodies ahead of my brain, my feet going by their own violation through to the living room before my mind has caught up that it's him, his long body curled up into the couch.

There's a mug of coffee on the floor; a film covering the top which makes me know that it's cold before I put my hand round it, no hint of heat in the ceramic making me think that he's slept here all night; possibly every night. I kneel beside him, taking the opportunity to watch him, smiling at his peaceful face in sleep devoid of any memories. There's this ball of something, I suppose love which is bursting inside of me as I look at him, his long dark eyelashes fanning his perfect cheeks; a dollop of sleep in the corner of his eye that I want to wipe away instead settling for running my fingers along his full bottom lip, he shivers at my touch my hand retreating as I look around for a blanket. I've just put the woollen cover that's become my favourite over him; my go to when I'm lounging about on this couch reading, tucking it over his shoulders then his face tenses as if in pain, can't get a breath, unintelligible words pass his lips before he groans, his head moving from side to side. "Your alright mate" I whisper; placing my hand in his, stroking a strand of hair stuck to his face now covered with a light sheen of sweat, he doesn't wake, his hand at first trying to get away from my grip but I don't let him; stronger than him for once, moving from the floor and sitting on the edge of the couch, letting me be closer to him as I continue to run my thumb along his cheekbone, and a song that my sister used to sing from her bunk bed above me comes to mind and I'm singing the words, out of tune and sometimes speaking if I can't hit the notes, but finishing the song that in hard moments before had given me a bit of hope, starting it again 'n' again 'n' again until his face settles; relaxing into the pillow and I'm not needed.

-og-

My head is shifting; as if it's sliding of it's own accord off the comfortable pillow, ignoring the brightness behind my closed eyelids I rummage around; finding the fabric corner and pulling until it's safely ensconced under my head again. Perfection…. If Carlsberg made pillows…. well…... Scrap that 'cause they'd fuckin' make ones which didn't bleedin' keep movin' and I ain't dreaming.

"Piss off I'm trying to have a bleedin' lie in." I can feel a grin fighting to make an appearance on my face, pressing my face into the mattress to try 'n' hide it I grab the corner of the quilt a sixth sense of what's coming next. "Move the quilt 'n' I swear to god I'll…."

"What?" His voice sounds sexy; hoarse, amused and close to my ear. I wouldn't mind waking up like this everyday.

"Please another half hour?"

"Shouldn't have had so much to drink last night, should you?"

"Oi, I think I remember you matching me drink for drink." There's the sound of a low laugh then I'm cold, bereft 'n' I give in and look, my eyes starting at the quilt that's now pooling at his feet, travelling to his hand which is holding my pillow and finishing their journey at his face which is smug. "You could lie beside me?" I try my luck, watching him as he moves his head slowly from side to side a wide grin on his face which he rearranges into a smirk as he leans down 'n' picks up my duvet, keeping hold of my pillow and starts a slow backwards descent towards the door - I don't think I'm gettin' anything back soon.

"Tell you what. If you're a good girl, dressed and through in the next 5 minutes I'll even let you have some breakfast."

"What's the bleedin' occasion?" I ask, defeated I let my head drop back down onto the bed.

"We're going to the beach."

"You look as if you're gonna' go hill climbing instead."

"We are." He shouts, raising his voice to compensate for the distance he's putting between us. " On the way to the beach."

"What part of holiday do you not fucking get?"

~~og~~

25 minutes later I'm heading through to the kitchen, my heart sinking when I take in the cleared breakfast table. Looking around there ain't even any cups left to be washed, the few that had been there when I'd eventually left sleeping beauty during the night apparently washed and put away; only a backpack sittin' which I lift 'n' immediately put back down, it's bloody heavy. Hopefully I wander over to a solitary mug that's sittin' beside the kettle, thankful when I take a sip of the still warm liquid before turning 'n' looking for him; it's as if I've got a bit of deja vu 'cause I ain't got a clue where he is until I notice the open french doors, for once minus a gale force wind blowing it's way in and head out to the surprising heat.

"You ready?" He's leaning his hip against the stone wall, his eyes scrunched against the bright morning sun as he watches me making my way across the grass. When I reach him he turns 'n' looks ahead of him, resting his mug on the wall 'n' points out to the bay, following his line across the sparkling still water to the the land jutting out on the other side I nod my head, taking a sip of my tea to make up for my lack of food. "The beach we're going to is over there. Bit of a walk but I promise it's worth it."

"Bloody better be worth missing breakfast for."

"I promise you it will be." Picking up his cup again he drains it, straightening himself and placing his hand on my shoulder to send me off in the right direction, obviously he's not wanting me wasting time hanging about here. "You just need to get your bikini…...what?" He asks tersely when he takes in my reaction.

"Bikini, i dunno' it's just funny coming out of your gob. Anyway I ain't brought one, weren't exactly expecting a heat wave here."

"Fine, you can go skinny dipping instead."

"Will you be?" I ask hopefully.

"No, I packed appropriate clothes." He places a kiss against my cheek. "The pleasures gonna' be all mine."

-og-

"Do you think that's ever been to Clacton?" I tip my head back to watch the seagull, scrunching my eyes against the bright sun as it flies solo out to sea, a lonely call to god knows who.

"I suppose it could have been." He yawns, not even looking, his eyes closed as he tries to catch some rays. Then a small smile tugs at his face and he opens one eye to look at me. "Though I'm sure once would have been enough."

"Piss off. You ain't half full of it today."

With a contented sigh he pulls himself up, bringing half the beach with him as he does, the sand sticking to his pale skin giving him a healthy glow. Like me he clasps his hands around his knees, supporting himself and turns, looking thoughtful as he does; as if he's not sure whether to tell me something or not. "I slept last night." He makes a show of brushing some sand off his shorts, the material still damp from his brave swim in the sea that I refused to join him in. Obviously 'cause I can't swim but I played to the temperature of the water, shrieking as I dipped a toe in 'n' running back up to our stuff; happily sitting down to watch him as I finally ate some food. I'm pretty impressed with his picnic making skills I have to say. "Didn't wake up with a nightmare."

"That's good ain't it?"

The sand that he's gathered drips through his fingers, he clenches his fist, stopping the grains then starts again as he unfurls his hand, there's a furrow on his brow, for the need of something to do I copy him, lifting a palm full of sand waiting for him to speak. "Yes, made me hope that every moment of my life wouldn't be defined by what happened."

I let my handful of sand go 'n' bump my shoulder into him. "I don't think that would ever have happened."

"Do you not?" He leans back; resting his weight on his hands 'n' watches me intently.

"Nah, 'course not, you're a good dad, a shit hot soldier 'n' let's be honest a pretty awesome human being, all that was a bit of a crap period in your life."

"For one I'm not a soldier anymore."

"Yes you are."

"I don't think they'd have me back."

I'm not too sure either, so we both smile awkwardly at each other 'n' I go back to watching the waves, listening to the sound of them as they gently lap onto the beach; I have to admit it's beautiful, a calmness I've never had before. He stands up, blocking the sun and looks down at me whilst holding out his hand.

"Fancy a paddle?"

"You're alright." There's no attempt to persuade me, heading off leaving me watching him break into a run as his feet hit the shallow tidal water; creating splashes as he wades through with determination until he's up to his waist 'n' gracefully dives, his whole body submerged for a minute until he reappears 'n' with strong strokes makes surprising headway through the sparkling blue water. I wonder what it would be like to be him 'n' have no fear of the water even though there's something about it, the tantalising coolness of the rippling sea hypnotic which I think is why I find myself standing up 'n' starting to take off my shorts 'n' t-shirt; leaving me only in god knows who's bikini, the heat finally able to heat up my skin.

At first the water is perishingly cold, especially after the heat of the sand, I suck it up being brave until it's lapping around my ankles, waiting for him, smiling as eventually he sees me 'n' pulls himself up to standing. "Change your mind?" Nodding I wait until he gets closer, trying not to watch the water dripping off his lean body. He stands in front of me, pushing his wet curls off his face, happy to let the sun dry off the excess moisture 'n' starts to turn as if he's expecting me to follow him.

"I think they would let you back in." His hands go on his hips, his face scrunching up as if he wants to tell me to leave it but can't 'cause he wants to hear what I've got to say. "I'm not sayin' that they'd have you back on active service straightaway or that but your fit." Eyebrows are raised 'n' he bites his lip, a sparkle in his eyes. "Obviously." I clarify, knowing that I'm blushing 'n' he knows I'm blushing but I have to let him have that seeing as I can feel that long forgotten stirring of something in the pit of my groin again. "And mentally you're alright, a bit confused 'n' probably a few nightmares above completely sane but you'd only need to persuade them that you're alright. Talk to them. Do the shrink thing. Prove to them that you're still the same rod up your arse Sandhurst bloke that went away."

A breath is exhaled through his lips then his gaze drops to meet mine, I move towards him as I feel the warmth of a hand pressing against the skin on my back pulling me in closer to him. For the first time ever we have bare skin touching. "What would I do without you?" He asks his voice dipping.

I can smell the sea on him, the salty tang as a bead of water drips off his face 'n' lands on my lip. "I dunno' but without you I'd have breakfast 'n' a sodding great long lie." Tipping up my chin I watch him, feeling a kick in my gut as I take in his eyeline focussed on my lips. "And I'd probably have a better tan what with not having to chase you round the beach."

"I wasn't aware you were."

"I'm here ain't I?" Looking over my shoulder I point out our abandoned stuff, not that there's anyone about to nick it. " Was over there before you pissed off again."

"We are on a beach Molly, I think you'll find the common theme is to attempt to swim." He explains with patient amusement.

"Well I can't swim."

It's not him that let's go off me, more me that steps back out of his reach. I'm embarrassed for some reason, yet something else that I can't do 'n' he can.

"Why not?"

"Never had the chance, not really up on the list of important things when your parents can't even afford to feed or clothe you." I'm aware that my shoulders are shrugging as I explain, especially when he places his hands on them stilling them 'n' forcing me to look up at him. "Managed to pull a sickie the day we had to." I explain.

My right shoulder is left bare as he scratches his chin, placing it back on my burning skin 'n' squeezing me as he talks above my head. "I should be pissed off, what if something had happened in Afghan, jeez we were in a bloody river at one point."

"Yeah but it were alright."

"No it's not." His fingers dig into my skin, a determined look on his face which has taken on an air of seriousness. "I'm going to teach you to swim. Then when you get deployed again I'm not going to be sitting worrying that you'll be in anything deeper than a puddle."

"That would be nice except there ain't a swimming pool here."

"Take a look around you ….." I shriek, loudly and very girly like as I feel my waist being hoisted up on his shoulders, all of a sudden the clear sea beneath me as he starts to move out into the deeper water chuckling to himself as he goes. "All you need to do is lie back….."

"Do you know how long I've waited on you ….." The coldness hits me first, the shock of suddenly being unceremoniously dumped into the sea meaning that I forget to close my eyes; everything in my world becoming murky, sound distorted as I try to righten myself from my underwater hell, pushing off the sandy bottom of the sea as I take in huge gulps of salty water. Eventually I scrabble onto my knees and take a shuddering breath as I break free; coughing and spluttering as I look up at him, his tall frame dropping down until he's on my level, his fingers coming up and tucking my hair back behind my ears until my face is clear and his hands cup my jaw, holding me as he presses his lips against mine before pulling away, smiling at me as if he's pleased with himself.

"And keep the air in your lungs Dawesy."


	12. The Power of Love

**Thank you for reviewing the last chapter, there seems to be a problem that they're not showing up on the site but I am getting the emails and your lovely comments are as always fantastic and really help with any doubts. Can't say it enough, and anyway feel rude if I don't - I really really appreciate you reading and putting up with my dreadful grammar and passive voice (whatever the fuck that is but allegedly it's important.) Hope you enjoy xx**

I'm floating in the sea. My body being lifted 'n' then dropped by the motion of a wave, my hands stroking the water until I get myself straight again. There's something surreal about this. I like it. Letting myself relax even more as his hand presses into my lower back then moves away again. Keeping my eyes shut, letting the sun burn my salt water coated lips my smirk changes into a smile, then a giggle and even in the quietness of the deserted beach I can hear him thinking but whatever he's thought's going to be known only to him 'cause with a sigh he goes quiet again letting me listen to my new favourite sound; leaning my head back slightly 'n' submerging my ears under the water so I can listen to the muffled sounds of the sea 'n' let it heal me in some sort of way. "You should try this."

"I think you need me here." There's a hint of amusement in his voice, and when I open my eyes, blinking against the sparkling sun he's grinning at me as if it makes him happy having me floating in his arms, his body relaxed as he watches me master the art of balancing on my back.

Folding my body, grimacing as something wraps round my wrist I come up to a sitting position, disgustedly removing the piece of seaweed that's wrapped itself around my arm before tipping my chin up to look at him. "Go on you have a shot, then you can teach me to proper swim." He's a patient instructor, I'm a bit surprised I thought he'd be all bossy and shouty. Not that he's perfect, he'd been less than understanding when I'd wrapped myself around him, clinging onto him and squealing as I had my first experience of bleedin' seaweed. Hating the feeling of the slimy stuff winding onto my ankle 'n' almost passing out such was my panic until huffily he removed it once he'd freed an arm from my embrace 'n' telling me that it was 'just a bit of sodden sea plant', in his defence it was probably the most bodily contact he'd had since heading out to Afghan 'n' it hadn't exactly been his choice. He doesn't move still watching me as if he's trying to work something out; maybe it's why some people like me are such a natural in the water. "Did you teach Sam to swim?" I'm having images of Charles and Sam like this; the happy squeals and laughter from both of them as they spend quality fun time together.

"Yes." He says as if he's unsure, lifting his hand to his mouth 'n' biting at his fingernail 'n' gives me one of his fake smiles. "Though he far preferred his swimming instructor. Apparently she knew how to do it properly. Anyway…" His eyes tell a story of guilt or missed opportunities or the natural feelings of a parent to never feel you've done enough, well, except for my old man - in his mind shoutin' at your kids, gettin' pissed 'n' hitting them made you a great parent, he'd even once joked that he should be doing one of those programmes on tv tellin' folk how to bring up their kids. "..we should probably think of heading back."

"Do we have to?" I don't want to go, want it just to be him 'n' I, not that we're heading back to any kind of great civilisation but here it is only us, 3 miles away from the nearest people. "We've still got enough food 'n' I fancy doing a bit of sunbathing."

"Okay." Standing up he turns away, heading back to our towels. He's having a moment I know that, something not sitting right with him so I give him time. Lying back again 'n' attempting to float by myself but it's not as easy when you don't have a pair of strong arms 'n' an encouraging face to help you.

By the time I head up the beach he's lying on his stomach, possibly sleeping, his eyes closed and his breathing regular no acknowledgment as I sit down next to him. I open a packet of crisps and try to eat quietly before sinking back into the towel 'n' turning my head away from the glare of the sun; relaxing. I'm building good memories, I know that now; after years of not living 'n' not letting myself appreciate anything I can enjoy simple things like this, the sun heating up my body, drying the sea water that's pooling on my skin and when I look over the warm breeze is lifting the curls on his hair, toying with them 'n' being careful not to wake him I let my hand slide over towards his; splaying it out until there's less than a grain of sand separating us and I can feel our connection; then I close my eyes and let the sounds start to drift away.

"Do you still find me attractive?"

Turning I'm met with dark brown eyes watching me, a hint of vulnerability that he's become so good at showing. "It weren't ever really your looks that I fell for in the first place." I lie, biting my lip to stop a giggle escaping at his surprise question.

"What was it then?" He rolls onto his side, supporting his head as he watches me, the vulnerableness of his question has been replaced with a cheeky amused glint as a lone eyebrow is raised. "My charm & magnetism?"

"Get a grip mate, can't remember ever seeing any of that." Pretending that I'm bored of the conversation I face up to the sky scrunching my face against the sun and sigh, then I feel the build up of another giggle which I don't control; enjoying the sound of it in the quiet air. I can't see him but I know he'll be shaking his head having the effect that I laugh even more only stopping when I realise that I might be upsetting him. "Possibly it were your bossyness and that you thought you were better than all of us, found that well attractive." When I turn back to look at him he's shifting himself over towards me, his hand coming up to my face and using his thumb he pulls my bottom lip down, freeing it from my teeth.

"I never thought I was better than anyone, only doing my job."

"If you say so." He smiles, exhales a laugh down his nose and the proximity, his touch 'n' the searing look in his eyes sends butterflies to my tummy. Reaching up I rub my thumb over his stubble and give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. "Do you know when you were away, I stopped thinking about you that way, I loved you but in a different way. It never mattered that you might not want me again, all I cared about was that you would come back. I even thought I'd be happy if you went back with Rebecca but I don't want that now."

"What do you mean?"

"This time away together, I've fallen in love with you again." I roll my eyes as his hand shifts until his thumbs sitting at my ear, his body language telling me that he ain't comfy with my declaration. "Remembered that you made my life better 'cause I enjoyed your company, that I didn't feel stupid when I was with you, everything just clicks into place."

Furrowing his eyebrows, lines appearing on his smooth forehead he speaks, his eyes focussed on something above my head. "Dad says that you've never gone for promotion. You should have Molly."

"I tried, filled out the forms then well, why should I have a career when you didn't."

"After a few months I thought you'd have moved on." Pulling himself up to sitting I'm faced with his back, blocking out the sun and I shiver reaching over for my t-shirt and putting it back on, waiting a few seconds before copying him and bringing myself up beside him; letting me see the expression on his face as he stares out to sea. "It wasn't exactly as if we had built a relationship on anything other than lust."

"It weren't just lust." I reply forcibly.

"Was it not?"

"Not for me no. At first maybe; I didn't half fancy you, not that I wanted to what with you being such a bleedin' rupert but..."

He laughs, his face lightening as he looks down at me. "Thanks."

"... It were more than that." Trying my best to clarify what I'm saying I sit up onto my knees making him have to look at me. "Soon wanted to impress you to have you like me 'n' that first time when I finally said something right 'n' you were pleased."

"Shocked more like.."

"Whatever, it wasn't just 'cause you were my CO that I was ecstatic, a piece of a jigsaw fell into place that day."

Picking up a sandy piece of wood he starts to draw shapes in the sand. "It was gradual for me too, have to admit that you annoyed me at first but maybe because deep down I didn't see you as a member of my platoon, warning bells maybe going off, I don't know. Only realised it I think the night you came to get the lyrics. Went from thinking of.." He scratches the back of his neck as if he's uncomfortable. "being with you to wanting you."

"When you say being with me, what do you mean?"

His laugh is carefree, a tinge of red making it's way up his neck as he leans over and puts his arm around me; pulling me closer into him as he giggles into my hair. "I don't think you really want to delve into the mind of a red blooded male soldier but believe me you never disappointed, sometimes my thoughts were the only pleasures in that FOB."

"As long as you were the only one thinking that way." I answer huffily but to be honest there's something a bit hot about him thinking of me like that and I can't help but look up at him and before I know it I've placed a kiss against his jaw, savouring the feeling of his skin against my lips.

He pulls away, and I think I've blown it as he looks angry; his face clouding over, then he winks. "If I thought any of them had been fucking thinking of you like that I'd have sent them home on the first fucking plane." Dipping his head towards me he grins, lecherously as I punch him on the arm and with that he pulls me over until I'm sitting on his lap, secure in his hold, his next words spoken gently into my ear. "I feel the same way. That I'm falling in love with you again, not that I ever think I stopped." My head is tucked into his chest, one hand holding me there as if he feels safe having me close, letting me hear the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat and it's then that I see the name he's written in the sand - Sam.

"You're a good dad."

"Am I?" It's a rhetorical question 'cause from my position I can feel him inhaling air into his lungs as he gets ready to continue. "Spent nearly every day thinking of all the mistakes that I made, the guilt that I hurt him when Rebecca and I split up and that I'd never get to say sorry, that he'd forget me too like I convinced myself that you would have forgotten me."

Angling myself until I'm straddling him; taking his face in my hands I smile reassuringly at him "He adores you, never stopped, loved it when I told him stories about you."

"Tell me about it, I'd forgotten how bloody witty I was, and." He pauses for dramatic effect, his eyes softening as he does. "Had to promise that I'd never say those bad… bad words again. Thanks."

"You're welcome…. But…." My arms reach up around his neck and my fingers tug the curls, watching him as he swallows rapidly. "I quite like it when you say bad words."

He chuckles; looking away then shyly watches me, a smile tugging at his face. "Like latrine clean?"

"Not quite what I was thinking of." I giggle, keeping my focus on his lips as I wait for him to say something else and then giving up. "I was thinking more of…" I've said the word thousands of times in my life; got detention at school for saying it but somehow I can't get it off the tip of my tongue especially when his gaze is flitting between my eyes and my mouth, his tongue darting out between his teeth as if he's nervous or possibly something else.

"Say it or I'll dump you in the sea again."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." With surprising fluidity he starts to uncurl himself, lifting me with him though when I put up a struggle; kicking my legs not wanting to feel the coldness of the sea again he lets go, holding his hand up to the surrender position. "Say it now Dawes and no one needs to get wet."

"Think I already am mate." For the second time today I'm hoisted, finding myself facing the ground as I'm carried across the golden sand, passing the imprints of our previous footsteps. I can't even say the word he wants me too for laughing, enjoying the lightness inside of me as with long strides he makes his way towards the sea, joining with me in enjoying this moment, his body shaking with laughter as his feet hit dull grey water the sun having finally given in for the day. I'm not sure what happens, almost as if he trips, both of us crashing into the freezing cold water together, surfacing in sync and taking deep breaths as we try to get air back into our lungs. "Fuck." I think it's me that says it, but it could have been him, his face younger than I've ever seen him as he grasps the back of my sodden head and pulls me towards his mouth as if in apology. The swell from the sea pushes me with each rolling wave meaning that there's nothing between us; involuntarily i shiver, my clothes saturated, the cold of the water clinging to me even though I'm happier than I've been in years.

"Shit Molly, you'll catch your cold. Take your top off."

"Was expecting something a bit more romantic than that."

He grins, his hands on the hem of my top, "I don't think there's anything more romantic than me going to give you the warm shirt from the safety of my backpack."

"I'd agree with you if it weren't your fault that I was bleedin' soaking in the first place." The last few words are muffled as he pulls my t-shirt over my head. I'm embarrassed, suddenly aware that I'm kneeling in front of him with only my bikini on. Shyly looking up at him from beneath my eyelashes but he's not looking at me, his eyes focussed on my tits, his tongue whether he realises it or not darts out his mouth, sweeps over his bottom lip before receding back into his partially opened gob. His breathing is laboured for a few breaths, then slowly his eyes rise to mine, dark pools of lust and he swallows. I don't know what to do, course I want him to touch me, think of all the tricks in the book to get him too but I don't think fluttering my eyelashes or demurely running my fingers down my throat are gonna' help in this situation. In the end nature helps us, another wave, bruisingly crashing over us, his warm hands going onto my arms to balance me as the foamy water pushes me into him.

"Christ" Are the only tortured words I hear before he's pushing me away, sighing as he looks back down, then his eyes come back up to me a pleading look as if he's begging me to do something, as if it's me who holds all the cards but I don't, only him can ease the long forgotten ache that has recently started to take root in my life again. "Molly." He groans, eyes still fixed below my neckline, his head dips, my mouth in line with his ear so I can almost taste the saltiness of his skin. Pushing my chest towards him I gasp as he pushes my bikini down, freeing me, his fingers brushing across the tautness instinctively unfurling something in the pit of my belly before coldness returns as he retreats back to the safety of my arms, his fingers digging into my shoulders as if he's fighting a battle with himself. "It wouldn't be fair." Pulling myself away at his words I sit back on my calves. I'm not even noticing the chill of the sea; disappointment seeping through my body after the unfulfilled promise of one touch. Swallowing against the need to push into him, selfishly needing this I put my hand down to sort myself, trying to get some pride back but his hand meets mine, pushing it away, and I sit facing him both our breathing ragged. "It would only be one night, I couldn't promise you anymore than that."

"Please."


	13. Don't Let Me Go

His breath blows gently on my neck, 4 beats of his steady heart to each whispered exhalation of air. I grip his arm tighter trying to keep him closer to me; his body shifting in response; gathering me against him. I've been lying like this for 2 hours now, the red digits on the bedside clock glowing in the darkened room keeping count of the precious moments I get to spend with him like this. I don't want to go to sleep.

Letting out a shuddery sigh I let my mind replay every memory and feeling again. From the way that he'd nodded at my begging plea as we'd sat in the cold sea water, strong hands gripping the back of my neck surprisingly tightly as his head dipped towards me eyes wide open, watching his intended destination, tugging until our lips had crashed together. Clamping my legs together I hold onto the delicious warmth that had spread through me at the moment, it still hasn't abated and even if this all went tits up it would still always be a part of me; ingrained in my soul. I remember the sudden shock of a wave pushing us over, separating us until our hands found each other again gripping onto cold skin as we stood upright shivering, laughing like children as we continued to abandon all sense of what was right or wrong, in the end the only emotion that mattered was the human need to be with each other.

We'd walked back, 3 miles of rough track, the lure of knowing what was waiting for you making it seem even longer, it wasn't just me. Every few steps he'd look down at me, his hand holding onto mine and grin, his eyes bursting with anticipation or as we'd turn a corner, another path rolling away in front of us he would sigh, an occasional groan sometimes when we would reach the brow of a hill only to find a steep path in front of us. The light starting to fail as if encouraging us to walk faster, letting us know that there was somewhere we needed to be.

Eventually we had walked through the gate, our feet finally on home soil his hand had tightened around mine, not letting me into the cottage until I'd turned; reaching up and comforting him as I'd replicated what he'd done in the past when I'd needed him, angling his head down until I'd softly kissed his forehead, trying to erase the worry lines that had appeared. 'I promise' I whispered, a cold white lie, 'I'm thankful that we have this one night together.' It had been enough to appease him, the beautiful dark eyes softening back to a warm lust, his hand dropping to the small of my back, imperceptibly propelling me through the door.

He'd lead me through to my room, a breath exhaled laugh when he took in the empty bed; the pillow and quilt still not returned from the morning fun though it felt like a lifetime ago now. We hadn't taken the time to get them, instead undressing each other. I suppose when I look back there had been months of longing and lust, thinking that we only had to get back to Britain neither of us thinking that it would be over another 2 years before we could be together and in that time both of us would have changed; any innocence that we had - lost. We were new people.

I'd forgotten what it was like to have skin on skin contact, the strangeness of the heat of someone else's body pressing against you, sending messages to your brain that you were safe; protected a contentment that I hadn't often felt in life and then the slowly building excitement. A man on top of you instinctively knowing what you needed, hips pushing against yours; a knee creating space until he fitted, that moment of discomfort after so long and then the amazement at the slowly building pleasure.

A tear gathers in the corner of my eye at the memory and I let it spill, my focus blurred as I look down and check that my hand is still in his; a grip that's strong even in sleep, my other still wrapped round his arm ready to stop him if he tries to move away.

We hadn't kissed, well not to start, it would have meant that we'd had to have broken eye contact 'n' there seemed to be something so important about watching each other. I'd never seen as many emotions played out and I truly felt as if we were part of something magical until my body had started to climb, my breathing becoming irregular as I tried to chase the feeling then at the final moment I'd felt scared; a fear that it was all gonna' be too much and then he'd broken the eye contact, his lips grazing my cheekbones until his mouth found my ear 'Stay with me Molly.' he'd softly ordered and when my mind had lost the fight, my body taking over his lips had crashed against mine, catching the strange whimpering noises I seemed to be making. His body slumped, heavy, his skin warm with sweat as we'd finished; holding me as our breathing returned to normal, my endorphins crashing as I'd clung onto him, my fingernails digging into the tight muscles on his back until he'd pulled away.

Raising himself up onto his elbow, his thumb reassured me as it caressed my hair back behind my ears, a feather light kiss placed on my nose. 'Two minutes.' His words said as he left the bed, leaving the room and returning with the quilt, placing it over me and then tucking me in as if I needed to be looked after. Crouching down beside the bed he'd taken my hand, kissed the back of it and smiled, warmly. 'Thank you.' There's had been a break in his voice, I'm sure of it as he gently ruffled my hair. 'Get some sleep.' And he'd gone, this time closing the door behind him.

Obviously I hadn't, my body too alive; missing him 'n' by then I'd become fascinated with the clock; watching the digits change and thinking how strange it was that something so simple could define our lives. 38 minutes it had taken for him to come back. I'd closed my eyes, slowed down my breathing 'n' pretended that I was sleeping. For an indeterminable amount of time he hadn't moved as if he was standing against the door watching. It had become harder to pretend, my breathing wanting to change; knowing he was here looking at me and then just as I was about to fake waking up I heard the padding of his footsteps, not caring that I was holding my breath as I felt the bed dip, the quilt moving as he settled himself leaving a cold divide between us. 'You promised me one night' I'd spoken into the darkness, listening to the stillness, biting my lip not to let out a frustrated sob 'n' as soon as I felt the bedding move I'd shifted backwards until my back had met his body, blinking to release the loneliness that I'd felt being away from him and sinking into the security of his body space. 'Sorry hadn't wanted to wake you.' He'd apologised as he gripped my shoulder, his kiss biting into my skin and I'd placed my hand in his waiting patiently for long fingers to curl around mine and they had and I whispered, the words barely having the confidence to leave my mouth. 'I missed you.' But he must have heard, pressure placed to my hip until there wasn't an inch of my skin which isn't touching him, nothing able to come between us. From then it had taken another 42 minutes before his breathing had slowed to the rate that it's at now; the gentle steady rhythm of someone who's sleeping.

My eyes are starting to get heavy, my thoughts muddled as they drift from the conscious to strange abstract images. It's unfair because I don't want to sleep, want this night to go on forever but I'm losing that control like I've lost the control of deciding when I fall heart stoppingly irrevocably in love. I never knew it could feel like this.

-og-

Stretching, trying not to wake him I feel the sparse wiry hairs on his chest scratch against my chin. At some point during the night we've changed positions, his body being used as a pillow as I realise I'm draped across him. He's lying on his back comfortable, his breathing the same as when I fell asleep. I don't feel as if I've been so cheated now, a few precious moments that I might not have had waiting for him to wake, watching his long eyelashes flutter against his cheek, stillness behind his closed eyelids. It's good to see him at peace; he's young, carefree 'n'' I'd love to spend the rest of my life waking up like this. I know he's gonna' wake soon, every few seconds he shifts uncomfortably as if he can't get a calmness, his eyes opening, closing then snap open again focussing on the room as he tries to work out where he is 'n' then realising that I'm here he lifts his head from the pillow and looks down at me, smiling then drops his head back down before I can decipher the emotion in his eyes.

"God what time is it?"

"Only the back of 8 we don't need to get up yet." My skin tingles with the trail his fingers are creating up 'n' down my arm. "I like this." I get his attention, the focus that had been on the ceiling returns to me, his position shifting, pulling himself up to sitting and leaning against the headboard, opening his arms in invitation for me to join him and when I do he kisses my temple. "Best way ever to wake up."

Laughing at my statement he hugs me a bit tighter. "Is there anything you'd like to do today?"

There's something I need to do and that's dealing with the consequences of last night. Unfortunately I can't just pop out for half an hour, tell him I'm away to get some milk or something and anyway he's not some teenage one night stand, tucking my head into his neck I swallow my embarrassment, mumbling as I tell him. "I might gonna' have to go to the doctors."

"Why?" There's silence, his tone apologetic when the penny drops. "Ah stupid question, I'll come with you."

"No your fine, well obviously you can drive me down but I'm a big girl I'll go in by myself."

"I'll do whatever you need me to do but first I'll get us a drink, cup of tea?" Shifting away from me, sitting on the edge of the bed he leans across to reach his trousers abandoned on the floor from last night. The muscles on his back, the ones that my fingernails had trailed a path down flexing as he moves and at first I think it might have been me that had made the marks; shards of silvery skin highlighted by the tan from our day in the sun, but I didn't they're old.

Moving over towards him, surprising him, he jumps as my fingers splay out across his back. "What are these, what the fuck did they do to you?" Every emotion under the sun is flooding through me, the guilt that it should have been me, the disgust that humans could do this to each other and the sadness that he's suffered and there's nothing that I can do to help. "Charles?"

"Just leave it." Standing abruptly, grabbing the t-shirt he had been wearing yesterday and ignoring the flurry of sand falling out he hastily puts his arms in first, neck muscles tense as with a warning look for me to drop it he pushes his head through. Fully dressed leaning against the wall he awkwardly manipulates the muscles on the back of his neck, scrunching his face in pain, jolting as I reach out and put my hand onto his wrist. It's scared eyes that look down at me, begging me to drop the subject.

"You need to talk about it." Pleadingly I ask, watching him distance himself emotionally even more. "Maybe not to me if you don't feel comfortable but a shrink or I dunno' your Mum and Dad."

"I'm sure my parents would love to hear what I've been through." He drawls, removing all emotion from his voice, yanking his body out of my reach and shoving his hands into his pockets.

"It's not gonna' change their opinion of you."

"Yes it would."

Sighing I sit back, pulling the duvet across me. "Charles, you can't keep it bottled up. I know 'cause I tried." My words seem to have some effect, he uncrosses his arms, shoulders dropping, coming over and sitting on the bed beside me, possibly the trigger of mentioning that he wasn't the only one to be affected reasserting his need to be in charge, to be the strong one, taking my hand in his and entwining our fingers together as he thinks of what to say.

"I can't talk about it Molly. It's locked away, I need to forget about it not relive….. "

"I went to a support group once" I interrupt. "Only 'cause they were starting to question whether I should be put on medical leave 'n' I couldn't imagine not having work, it were the only thing that made me get up everyday." Recognising the haunted expression in his eyes, knowing that any minute now he's gonna' try to console me I put my finger up to his lips stopping him, pausing and taking a deep breath before I continue. "Anyway I went, this bloke there talked about how he thought he'd been coping after losing a few mates in his section. 2 years down the line he thought everything was fine, yeah he woke up in the morning forgot then remembered." I shrug, copying the soldiers body language when he'd been telling a room full of strangers. "He would get the feeling of panic, the anger, god every bleedin' emotion would be replayed 'n' he'd be brave 'n' push it to the back of his mind - not wanting to upset his wife,his kids. He didn't realise that each day that moment was lasting longer, said it were like it were festering inside, growing, until one day his kid said he didn't want to play with him 'cause he scared him, his own Dad scared him. He only realised then how much it was all affecting him, then he got help, talked about it." I'd never realised how tiny my hand looked in his, watching, placing my other hand over the top 'n' trapping his hand, then looking up at him. "Don't do it for me Boss, do it for Sam."

He swallows, removes his hand from mine and wipes them on the dark material of his trousers, not looking at me. "Who was there for you?"

"Honestly?" He nods, watching me again and at my hesitancy takes my hand back in his. "Your mum and dad. My parents wanted to help don't get me wrong but they thought it were best to sweep it under the carpet, can hardly get through the bleedin' door in our house now but well Judy 'n' Edward they let me talk about it all, they didn't judge me or hate me for everything I'd done."

"You didn't do anything wrong Molly."

I laugh nervously. "We both know that's a pile of shit."

"No it's not." The words are said with controlled patience, his unblinking eyes fixed on me even though I have this intense urge to look away. "All you did was care, see the bigger picture, we've already talked about this. You're not to blame. Anyway, what you've done for me since we've been here, it has helped."

"Has it? Anyway, how did we end up talking about me?" Feeling melancholy I bump into him, smiling as he places his arm around my shoulder his mouth coming to my ear and parting my hair on each breath.

"Because you're important?"

I find a thread on the seam of his trousers, pulling the black fibres as we stay silent, each with our own thoughts, mine eventually spoken. "I'm so glad that I'm here with you."

"Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well for a start, you wouldn't have to be going to the doctors if it wasn't for me." We're still in the same position, each word whispered against my ear. "Are you sure I can't come in with you? Take some of the responsibility."

"It's 2017 mate, not 1917."

"Piss off Dawesy."

-og-

"Everything alright?" He stands up, walking across the wooden floorboards to tower protectively over me, a leaflet about god knows what in his hand and pulls me into a hug, sighing into my hair. "You were in for ages."

"Mainly filling out forms, giving all my bleedin' medical history."

"They didn't judge you did they?" Pulling away, his eyebrows knit together 'n' I can't help but laugh as he stares at the door of the room, a chance that he's maybe contemplating going in and having a word with the doctor. At my cheerful sound he looks down confused, tipping his head to the side, his expression changing to intrigue as his eyes flicker across my face, a smile tugging at his mouth as he waits to find out what's so funny.

"Well." I grip onto the belt of his jeans keeping him close to me. "She thought you was maybe punching a bit below your weight."

"Great a blind doctor, just your luck Dawes."

"And" I let one finger trace along his jaw, the stubble rough until I reach his lips, watching as he parts them to let me press against the plump skin. "She doesn't know how I'm gonna' keep my hands off you." We'd discussed what I was going to say before we'd gone in, his suggestion that I didn't need to actually say anything was stupid. Every one, or maybe every girl knows that you have to give your sexual life history, or the official one what you tell your current boyfriend version 'n' well with me 'n' him it's complicated so I'd gone for the we were just mates and it had got a bit out of hand after having a few drinks scenario 'n' it was never gonna' happen again. It had seemed the safest, especially after she'd shut the door behind me, smiled kindly 'n' nodded in the direction of his seat in the otherwise empty waiting room 'n' asked how he was doing. At first I couldn't work out why she'd asked me that, my brain scrambling until I remembered that he was a tad famous by default 'n' well it was easier to play everything down after that.

He snorts, copying my body language and using the waistband of my jeans pulls me into him, dropping his head so his eyes are level with mine. "Would that be a problem if you couldn't?" I can smell his breath against my face; coffee, adding to the aroma of fresh air that surrounds him, his mouth grazes against my lips, my body following him as he pulls away from me and cocks one eyebrow, waiting for a response.

"Will we make an appointment for tomorrow?"

I'll never tire of the sound of his laugh, it's always repressed, as if he laughed loudly once, never liked it or got the piss taken out of him 'n' never did it again. He takes my hand in his, tenderly looking down at me. "Maybe we should have a talk, work out what the consequences will be when we go back to real life. It's hard to forget that this is going to be over in a few days and I never want to hurt you again."

"Okay" I say, pretending that I'm alright with that but maybe I don't manage to be as positive as I sounded 'cause he tips up my chin, eyes judging as I give him a watery smile something shifting in his eyes, pupils dilating and then his mouth crashes against mine, teeth scraping against teeth as roughly he pulls me against him.

"Excuse me….. Excuse me."

He looks in pain again when he pulls away, his face uncomprehending; looking around for whoever has spoken, his hands tangled in my hair meaning that I can't turn.

"Sorry for interrupting but I think you might be needing these."

The words are apologetic but you can almost hear a tone of amusement 'n' I recognise the voice of the doctor, painfully tipping my head up to look at him to get a clue of what's going on, a tinge of red makings its way up his neck as he frees a hand. "Ermm Thank you. That's great thanks." He struggles to get whatever she's given him into his pocket, his gaze flitting to me as he tries 'n' I can tell that he's desperate to laugh, his shoulders starting to shake, burying his head into my neck at the sound of a door closing. "Christ Dawes, I feel like a bloody teenager. She gave us bloody condoms."

"We might gonna' have to use them Boss."

"We might gonna' just."

 **A huge thanks to Sue for taking the time to help and explain passive and active voice, it's much appreciated. Honestly this OG world has become a huge learning curve for me - hopefully I can do justice to what I'm learning! As always thanks for your support, you are a fabulous lot for sticking with this x**


	14. The Beauty of Sunrises

The dawn air is taters, a nip to it that makes me shiver, pulling my cardie tighter around me and trying to ignore my feet; still cold and damp after walking across the dewy morning grass. Perching on the old stone wall in the early morning grey light I sigh, taking it all in. It's beautiful, a stillness to the world that I live in, the sea a flat calm as I look out towards the bay, remembering the last few days, a flush taking over my body as I remember the feel of him, smiling to myself as I think of him still lying in bed, his body warm waiting for me to return, his face calm when unable to sleep I'd slipped out of bed half an hour ago, needing time to think.

We've only got 1 last night, 24 hours until we're loading the car 'n' heading back. I'm not even sure of how we're gonna' work it, whether I'll see him a couple of times a week, spend weekends with him or if he'll find someway for us to live together, 'cause sometimes you know don't you? That this is it. Well that's what people have always said - you know when you meet the 'one'. In fact i'd always thought that was all bullshit until Afghan, until someone had knelt down in front of me and asked me to get them bleedin' coffee, or maybe it was the 'I'll adore you for always' bit that sealed the deal. Mind you there was always a hint of doubt that when we got back to civvy street it would all go pete tong 'n' I'd realise that he was a boring pretentious twat; well something like that anyway. But he ain't, we're just good together - we fit no matter what our background and I wouldn't actually mind if I spent the rest of my life with only him for company 'cause we'd get by somehow, there's always a way when …...

"Are you okay."

"Shit. You gave me a bleedin' fright."

He laughs, the melodic sound echoing around the quiet garden, his bare feet leaving indentations on the grass as he moves from the house, god knows how long he was standing there and makes his way over towards me. It sounds stupid but I love watching him walking towards me; never tire of it after all the times in the FOB when I fancied him rotten 'n' he never knew I existed like that, only coming over to me if he was gonna' give me a row or tell me to do something and now…. well he's mine. Pulling himself up on the wall until he's sitting, his eyes scrunched against the breeze, the same placid expression on his face as when I left him, looking around him, taking it all in. It's as if nature has decided that today ain't the day for a long lie, slowly everything coming to life around us. He looks down at me; smiling, repeating what he had said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Couldn't sleep. Did I wake you?"

"Don't think so." He watches me, a question in his eyes. "What were you thinking about?"

"This 'n' that." His eyebrows raise; I get the impression that he's interested, waiting for me to explain. "Well if you must know I was thinking how much I fancied you in the FOB." I can feel heat rising up my face but when I look up he looks confused rather than smug or whatever it was I expected.

"Really? I thought you looked sad."

"It were a bit shit fancying you mate, you weren't exactly nice to me all the time."

"I was your Officer Dawes, I wasn't meant to be nice to you. Infact that's when I knew I was in trouble when I **was** nice to you."

"Can't remember. Was I there or had I popped off for a spa day or something?"

There's a smile tugging at his face but he doesn't give into it, his head tipping to the side. "I let you sing with me?"

Giggling, I lean over towards him, holding onto the fabric of his t-shirt, looking up at him, it takes me a few moments to stop laughing, ignoring the warning look he's giving me as he crosses his arms over himself protectively; playing along with my game. "God I fancied you that night. You were like so out of my reach, so bleedin' confident, successful, gorgeous… " Scrunching up my nose at the memory. "Though you did smell a bit rank."

"Fuck off Dawes. I put my best aftershave on that night?"

"Did you?"

"Yeah, Lynx body spray, nothing but the best for you."

"Was that all?"

"I hadn't exactly packed thinking I was going to be trying to attract the opposite sex, had I?"

"I'll give you that." I shrug 'n' exhale a breath, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. "And now we're here."

"Now we're here."

On the stone moss covered wall an arm is outstretched towards me, I look at it first smirking before gazing up into his warm amused eyes and then place my hand is his, feeling his fingers close around mine as he shakes his head in amusement. One last time he winks at me, watching me as if it pleases him to see the bashfulness I still feel, the stutter of my emotions I'm not sure I'll ever grow out of. "'N' you still smell rank."

"Oh Dawesy" Tugging me roughly he pulls until I'm against him helping me turn so we're both facing out towards the horizon.

We go quiet, no need for conversation, pleased that he's now beside me to see the orange glow on the horizon, spilling across the sea, I tuck my legs underneath me, whispering. "I've never watched a sunrise properly since Afghan, never seemed right."

There's enough of a chill in the air that I can see the long breath that he exhales. "I didn't see another sunrise after that day, well until that morning in Clacton. Seemed fitting that I was near you the first time I saw it again." He moves my hair away from my shoulder, kissing the sensitive skin on my neck, I'm glad the feelings that it creates taking the sting away from the realisation of how damaged we are.

"What happened." I move a strand of hair that the breeze has blown in front of my face, unsure if the words would have reached him but I know they have when I feel his ribcage expand against my back.

Nipping the skin below my ear, blowing a breath against it in apology for the split second of pleasurable pain, he takes his time to answer. "We agreed. I'm going to speak to someone when we get back. I'm not going to pollute your mind Molly."

"I just want to help, be there for you. I'd cope, you've had to"

He takes the hint, his teeth scraping against my neck that I've dipped to give him access. "You've done more than you'll ever know and you're the strongest person I've met. Now." Obviously he changes the subject. "Let's just watch this sunrise. Enjoy it. Be glad that we're here to see it."

My hands hold onto his arms, comfortably leaning against the solid chest, silent as we watch the bright orange star take it's time as it rises across the horizon, the world about us becoming noisier as everything starts to come to life.

"I've missed a call from Rebecca last night." The word are rushed as he speaks them, as if it's been playing on his mind. "I'm going to take a drive and try and get some bloody reception to phone her back. Do you want to come with me?" It's daytime now, the day bright after the greyness of dawn, only an occasional cloud rushed across the sky by the breeze that's building, toying with becoming blustery.

"Nah you're fine, I'll get breakfast organised when you're away."

"Good plan."

-og-

It's nearly an hour later that I hear the crunch of gravel, a muted sound of a radio as the engine is switched off before there's nothing and with a smile on my face I listen for the clunk of the door closing, waiting for him, knowing that he's gonna' be amused when he sees me back on the wall, the exact position when he left. I wonder for some inexplicable reason if I've missed him getting out, as the silence continues for too long. I'm about to get up, investigate 'cause I'm too impatient when I hear the noise I've been waiting for my body relaxing back into position, an excitement that's scary that he's gonna come round the corner. His footsteps sound slow and the expression on his face or if I'm honest the way that he has to rearrange into a smile from a worried, pensive look leaves me worried as he comes into view, a stilling of my heartbeat before he crosses the grass towards me and pulls my face towards him. "Everything alright?" I ask as I come up for air, my fingers gripping onto the hem of his t-shirt.

"Sam's not well, missing me apparently."

"Anything serious?"

"No, tonsillitis. Rebecca says that he's always like this when he has a temperature." Guilt is oozing out of him as he exhales a breath, a shudder to it. "She's going to hold the fort until I get back. Apparently he's already much better than when she phoned me yesterday." .

"We could leave earlier if you want, go back today. Is there a ferry?"

My face is still in his hands, safe, secure, his attention fixed on me as he contemplates his answer. "No there's not." So he's checked but I quell the disappointment, push aside the unfair jealousy towards Sam or life in general, I'm not sure, 'cause I am worried about his kid but I don't want our time to be over. "Anyway it'll be fine, it's our last day together. One day more of me being selfish isn't going to make a difference. He's on antibiotics and I'll make it up to him when I get back."

"Yeah we can take him for an ice-cream or the cinema that's what my lot always want to get cheered up."

He laughs, whatever going on behind his deep brown eyes lightening for a minute, watching me with adoration. "I think I'll be looking at a new games console and some games. If only it was that easy."

"Don't ever tell mine that, they'd well milk it."

Picking up my hand he places a kiss, old fashioned, his head dips to the side, contemplative. "What would you like to do today. Your wish is my command?"

"Anything"

"Well anything that you can do on a small island with not much to do."

"Just a shame we never got to the Ceilidh." I slide off the wall, ignoring the pain as the rough stone digs into my calves standing and motioning with my hands to get him to move over towards me. He's unsure as he does; wary. My hands going round his hips, looking up at him, I'm met with a bemused expression, a suspicious sparkle in his eyes at what I'm gonna' get up to now. "We could dance here."

"No."

He grips onto my shoulders, as if he's ready to push me away if he needs to, reaching up I take his hands in mine, grinning at him the whole time. "Come on I know those hips want to dance, it'll be romantic or something, a good memory."

"Possibly, if there wasn't the chance of standing on sheep shit that is."

"Even with the sheep shit." Laughing, I reach up on my tip toes to kiss his jaw, small kisses, waiting for him to come down towards me and when he does it starts off tentative until I'm pushing against him, my hands going round the back of his neck, applying pressure to deepen the kiss.

"Molly I don't want to dance." Breaking the kiss, the words are spoken into my neck, his breath hot against my skin. "Please."

It'll be good for him though, and I want to dance with him. "But there's no one here." After all it was what he'd said, he wasn't ready to be in busy places, persuading me, letting me believe he'd rather stay with me in the bed that we hadn't left all day until we'd realised we had no milk. Laughing like the two new lovers we were as we'd driven 20 minutes to the nearest shop, his hand never leaving mine. "Remember that night that we met again, in the garden at your parents." It's hard to tell if he knows what I'm on about, his head still buried into my hair. "I was so jealous of that couple, that they could do that. I wanted it to be us."

"That'll never be us."

"Why not?"

Conversation over, he's pulled back, arms crossed a different expression on his face, the one I don't want to argue with, you can take the squaddie out of barracks 'n' all that. "We've got one last day together Dawes, what would you like to do?"

"I'd love to go out on the sea, you know on a boat."

"What rather than swimming out?"

"Piss off." I giggle, maybe I should have spent the last day with another swimming lesson, the though of his hands on my body getting me a bit heat up but he'd talked about a secluded beach, one without a 3 day hike to get to and told me stories of being a kid and having picnics and adventures; good memories for him.

Taking my hand he leads me back towards the cottage, the stillness of it as we walk through the french doors and he lets out a short laugh as he takes in the breakfast laid out on the table, a bowl and a box of coco-pops to be exact. Spinning round towards me, surprising me he leans down, his kiss passionate. "You are an amazing woman, you know that don't you? Don't let anyone ever tell you any different, promise?"

"Well, unfortunately mate not everyone is impressed with a box of cereal being dumped on the table." I'm on my tiptoes, enjoying every single second of contact with him, the stubble rough on my chin. "But I'll make sure to put it on my form for promotion."

"You'll be accepted straight away." One final kiss then he stands back, releasing me. "Have breakfast. I'll see if I can get today organised."

"What having breakfast alone, on our last bleedin' day 'n' coco-pops, we ain't even shared coco-pops yet."

"Really?" His hand tugs through his hair, he looks older suddenly as if something's aged him for some reason but he's still as sexy as and I think I might be batting my eyelashes at him, desperate for him to come back over to me but he doesn't. "For fuck sake Dawes, we've ran out of bloody condoms."

Raising my eyes to the ceiling I give out an exasperated breath. "It ain't my fault the NHS ain't good at sums."

 **I did have an enormous thank you section in here but when I read it back I realised how cringe worthy it was, needless to say I really just wanted to thank just about everyone and in my haste to update had managed to miss off quite a few people who have been brilliant - thank you!  
**


	15. You Let Her Go

The dingy skims across the water, fast. I shriek as we bounce over a swell, the sound making him turn; his wind burned face grinning at me, boyish and carefree. The curls that in a week have grown longer are being toyed with by the sudden building wind, some weighed down by the sea spray, dropping so they're resting on his forehead. You wouldn't guess that he was an Officer of the British Army having spent years in captivity. Gripping onto the rope at the side I tip my head back so my hair is trailing in the grey blue water. The wind from the open sea is whipping across my face, the smell of the sea sticking to the inside of my nostrils. There's a freedom about this, and finally I feel I'm free of all the worries that had been clinging onto my bones.

He calls to me, the wind catching his words taking them out to sea meaning that I have to sit up, the damp ends of my hair cold against my t-shirt. "What?" Leaning forward I scrunch my face up still try to work out what he said. I love the look of amusement on his face as he nods down towards the rudder. He raises his eyebrows in an unspoken question and of course I agree, loosening my grip and moving forward inch by inch to make sure we don't capsize. I'm still not used to the motion of the small inflatable, losing my balance as we bounce only to fall into him as he puts his arm out, grabbing me round my waist and pulls me onto his knee. "Is this safe?" Even close to him I have to raise my voice to be heard.

Turning something on the outboard engine we slow down. The noise now a putt putt rather than the previous angry roar. A gust of wind catches us, turning the boat around leaving us facing the direction we came from. I look to him to see if he's concerned but he ain't, his eyes are sparkling 'n' I feel at ease again, 'cause there's been times today when I've worried, something bothering him that he ain't letting me be part of. "We should be fine, we've enough in the back to balance us but no cartwheels." Kissing the side of my head, his arms tighten briefly around me before he lets me go, maneuvering himself slowly until he's sitting on the opposite side. I want to grin, a feeling of achievement as his large warm hand gently applies pressure helping me about turn. We start moving forward again, the boat hitting the rolling breaks hard. "Keep your eyes on where we want to be. This way for left and that way for right."

"This is easy mate, I'm a natural." I shout over to him, grinning as yet again he makes a small adjustment to my steering. A spray of water breaches the front of the boat, catching us both and I giggle, then shriek, the sound naturally building again until I'm in full scale laughter. He laughs too, the sound clear, his eyes full of life as he takes his focus away from the small natural harbour that we're aiming for, shaking his head once, twice and then a third until he's downgraded himself to a chuckle.

He's watching me as his hand lifts, freeing mine from my attempt at getting us home. I have the freedom again to reach behind me and grab onto the rope, closing my eyes for a second as I relax.

"I wish I had a camera for this moment."

Opening my eyes, I stare at him, a thousand emotions flickering across his face as he studies me. I'm sure I'm a mess, my hair curling with the damp around my face. "Well as long as you had a hair brush too 'n' some make-up."

"Then it wouldn't be this moment." He waits until I smile, reciprocating though there's something melancholy about him, I'm still smiling as he abruptly breaks the moment, concentrating as his steering becomes more intricate, guiding us between rocks with confidence.

Not needed I tilt my head up to the sky for one last time. "Think we're getting back just in time, looks as if it might piss down." My hair's blowing in front of my face, ignoring all of my attempts to tame it, so I miss his response if he's even made it, there's a look of intense concentration on his face that I ain't seen since Afghan.

"Grab the oar, I'm going to need you to paddle when I lift the engine up." His smile is encouraging, a you can do this moment. He obviously sees the horror on my face from the memory of our first argument when we'd left this morning, his tone tetchy as no matter how hard I tried we'd headed into shallow rocks until he'd grabbed the oar off me and with some huffing and choice words had managed to guide the dinghy out. "And I will remember that not everyone is a fucking bollocksy club scout public school wanker." Okay, so maybe he wasn't the only who'd become tetchy, I never said I was perfect. "Ready?"

It ain't textbook but when we're safely on dry land and tugged the Dinghy back to England, or what seems like it to get it away from the tide he stops tying an intricate knot and leans over for the backpack, handing it to me and nodding his head over to a few rocks that we'd sat on earlier. "Take a break, grab a drink. I'll be with you in a minute."

When I look in the bag there's only a few plastic bottles left, reaching inside to pick one up 'cause this outdoors sailsy shit is thirsty work 'n' I splutter when I take a sip, realising he's made me up a vodka and coke. "Love it mate." I shout watching him until he turns and smiles at me in acknowledgment. I've drank a quarter of it when he comes over and with a sigh sits behind me, accepting my offering to share. "Honestly, I don't think you could have made our last day so bleedin' perfect. Who would ever have thought I'd fucking love sailing."

"Well being on a dinghy." He hands my bottle back, and I wait for him to put his arm around my waist but he doesn't, leaving me to scoot back and rest against him.

"No need to get so bleedin' technical."

"It's not going to be easy when we get back." I keep quiet. My heart is loud in my ears as I listen, surprised at his change of conversation. In my mind it'll be fine, of course it will, we'll work it out and I take another sip of my drink, letting him stare out to the distance moodily as he thinks of whatever shit's going on in his head. When I tip my head up to look at him he's watching me. I get a strange sense of foreboding, my heart rate starting to increase as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Molly, this week has been fantastic. I didn't think it would, didn't think it could be." My brain is still persuading me that everything's okay 'cause I'm with him, his fingers still on my skin. "I've enjoyed our time together."

"You say that as if it's the end."

He takes a huge intake of breath, supporting himself as he leans back, increasing the distance between us. "If you were to ask me what I wanted for us, when we go back, well I wouldn't want us to be together. I'd want this to be our time, to always have this to look back on, I'll smile whenever I think of this week, think fondly of you and be glad that we had this. It's been perfect."

Turning so I'm facing him, I try to read him, to work out what's going on in his head 'cause it can't be what I'm hearing. "I don't know what you're saying?"

"Because" He looks about him, avoiding eye contact. "I'm never going to be what you need me to be Molly."

"But I love you."

"I know that and I'm sorry."

"You love me."

"And." Exhaling a breath, he gets ready to tell me whatever has caused the light to go out in his eyes, leaving them hardened, devoid of anything us. "One day we would stop loving each other, I don't know who first, maybe you because you'll get bored of what I can offer; your boyfriend, husband if I could ever commit to that won't go out, not have anything to do with your friends, won't let you have children, won't dance or…. shit the list is endless isn't it? I could never make you happy. Or maybe I'll start to resent you because I have Sam, always feel guilty that you've given up so much for me, convince myself that you're going to leave me for someone else, stop trusting you…. And Molly..."

"You've got a shittin' great imagination ain't you?"

"You want children though don't you?"

"Well yeah…" but it doesn't matter 'cause he knows, he's tricked me, a tear falls down my face at the memory of him asking me if I'd like a family and I'd told him. Not just a simple yes; my whole shittin' day dream of him and I as we'd sat on the beach his arms around me, that I'd only ever have 1 or maybe 2, though I'd never be like my parents I'd said, 'cause I'd want to show them the world but my kids wouldn't have to leave home and join the army to do it, well unless they wanted. Letting out a mirthless laugh my words haunting me as I'd told him how if they did join the army I'd be the proudest parent at their passing out parade. Through it all he'd sat, smiling at me; encouraging me when all he'd been doing was building a case as to why we wouldn't work. "Fuck this, I'm not lettin' you do this." I use my sleeve to wipe the tears away, pushing myself up and standing, wrapping my arms around me as I try to think of what I can do.

"And I'm not letting you spend the rest of your life looking after me."

"So this is it?" Watching him, I swallow, I think I could actually be sick. It's almost as if I was back in the damp cold field on exercise waiting to find out if he was still alive or not.

"I don't want you out of my life." He hasn't moved, still sitting feeling fucking sorry for himself. "Maybe when this is less painful for both of us we could meet up. You can tell me all your stories." There's the sound of what Molly did next, because you're special, you need to find someone, you'll be a brilliant mum and I'll love to hear all about it." The smile on his face doesn't reach his eyes.

Taking a few steps away from him I try to keep the anger inside me under control, failing. "So let me get this fucking right." I hiss. "You want me to meet someone else, to have kids 'n' meet you every so often for coffee, chat about how great my life is without you? What's wrong with me giving you, us time. I'd wait for you, I understand that this is all difficult for you I get that but Charles think this through please, a week, a month, a year, christ even two years, I could wait for you, you decide." Nothing about his protective body language changes, I lower my voice, a plead to it as I ask. "Do you love me?"

"I love Sam and he needs me more." He says as if it's simple.

I look towards the path that's gonna' take me away from here; leading back to the cottage where all I've got is happy memories. Maybe I should storm up there 'n' leave him here, a bubble of hope at the thought of him realising he's made a mistake and coming charging up to tell me he's changed his mind. That ain't gonna' happen though is it? Something tellin' me that he won't, my mind trying to sort everything out. This morning 'n' how relaxed he'd been until… "Is this what this is about, Sam? 'Cause you've been funny since that phone call this morning." The penny is startin' to drop, putting 2 'n' 2 together. "What you're beating yourself up 'cause you're not there for for him? You giving up the rest of your life to be the perfect dad? 'Cause let me tell you something, there ain't no such thing and giving up a chance of happiness, 'cause this, us, is a chance for both of us isn't gonna' help him, he needs his old man to be happy."

"And I will be. I'm making the right choice for both of us."

"Where's my choice." I shout. I'd not even noticed that I'd started crying but there's great salty fat tears running down my face. "You slept with me?"

"You knew that I had reservations about that." It's the first time his voice has been raised. He pushes himself up from where he was sitting, towering over me as he stares me down as if I've insulted him. Then it's as if the fight goes out of him, his shoulders slump, eyes glazing over him. "None of this means that I never wanted you, or that I don't have feelings for you." Warily he looks at me out the side of his eye, the furrow deepening as he sees the shaking of my head.

"What? You just couldn't control your erections around me?"

There's a flush of red making it's way up his neck, his head dipping so I can't see his expression. "Don't be like that Molly, it doesn't suit you."

Trying to get my breathing back to normal I accept defeat but it hurts. "They've won. You've let them win."

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Exactly. It's no wonder you can't see a place for me in your future, you can't even let me in to what's happened, you don't want to share, you want to be the victim."

"Molly." There's a warning edge to his voice that I ignore.

"If you're finishing with me, casting me aside then I can say what I want, and whether you admit it or not you've not tried to fight this. You're throwing any chance of happiness away, 'cause you won't get what we've got ever again." The tears are back, mingling with the rain that's started to fall in huge drops from the sky. "Please please fight for us."

"I can't sorry." His shoulders meet his ears briefly as he walks backwards, one foot fall at a time away from me looking up to the sky before turning. "We'd better get inside, this weather's only going to get worse."

I'm left standing on my own. My feet don't move as I let the rain lash down on me, trying to make some sense of it all. He's getting further and further away, head down as he walks with shoulders hunched protecting himself from the downpour. My tears turn to a weak pathetic sob, the sob to a strangled wail and whether he hears me or not he stops. Waiting for me. It's the loud rumble behind me, somewhere out at sea making me move towards him. An irrational fear of thunderstorms ever since Afghan. When I get closer to him I start to power walk, fighting the urge to break into a run to get past. God knows where I would stop. The path is narrow and he doesn't move off it to let me past, our shoulders touch 'n' I realise this might be the last time we ever have contact and I stop; judging the distance away from him. "I don't know how but I'll find my own way back tomorrow."

"Molly." There's a whoosh of air as he goes to grab my arm but I'm stronger, faster, easily dodging the contact.

"We can say goodbye at the pier, I won't need you after that."

I'm at the top of the hill when I turn, only to find he's not moved any further from where we last spoke. His hands are on his hips staring at the ground; immobile. My mouth opens to shout as I see the thunder bolt of lightning brighten up the sky, but the words die on my lips as he lifts his head scrutinising the dark still clouds, his shoulders rising and falling as if it's taking effort.

The ball of hurt that's growing constantly inside me propels me to turn around; to keep walking to the safety of the cottage where I can bang each fucking door until I get to the safety of my room. Well I think that until I climb into the unmade bed we'd both slept in last night and pull the duvet around me. My skin damp from the rain, shivering from the cold and everything that's happened and realise that my pillow 'n' everything that surrounds me smells of him and then I break.

 **I'm sorry but there's got to be a little turbulence along the way hasn't there? Thanks for reading as always and hope you don't hate me too much, I'm 110% sure that they'll find their HEA, because it is Molly and CJ after all :)**


	16. I Will Survive

"Bashtarding shit." Barefoot, with an empty bottle of wine in my hand I curse as I trip over an abandoned kit bag, dragging my foot along the floor to try and get rid of the sharp pain in my stubbed toe, it makes no difference. There ain't no spurting blood 'n' I don't think I've broken it, which is a bit gutting 'cause the way I'm feeling I'd like something obvious for gettin' people's sympathy. Continuing to make my way through the remains of a hastily arranged pity party; struggling to bend down to check our current stock supply. There's something bleedin' wrong with my head - balance or some shit 'n' anyway I don't have to; even from here I can tell that there's shit all. I look across at my flatmate. Like I was two minutes ago she's curled up on the couch, a blanket over her with reams of white paper at her feet. "We're out of vodka Libs, it's gonna' have to be something else?"

"Give me the options." She yawns, stretches and leans forward to help herself to a forkful of cold chinese, the majority of it missing her gob. "It needs to be some strong shit, I'm not even tipsy."

If she was right, and we were still on the right side of sober, I wouldn't at this point be reaching for the long forgotten bottle of tequila "There ain't no bleedin' options." Congratulating myself on my sobriety by grabbing the salt 'n' an orange. "I hate tequila." I say as I sink into the couch beside Libby whose gettin' us sorted with the salt 'n' all that and unscrew the bottle.

"What do you hate more? Self pity or tequila?"

"Self pity." We bump our wine glasses together in agreement, down the liquid and both try not to retch, licking the salt of the back of our hands. It takes me ages to get the power of speech back. "Actually can I change that? That was bleedin' rank." She doesn't answer, instead stretching over to grab the paper and pen that's sitting on the coffee table beside the empty bottles of wine with one hand, her other hand busy holding out her glass for me to fill, unsteadily I pour her another, sniggering. "It's half fucking full."

"What?"

"The glass it's half fucking full. See there ain't much wrong with me, it ain't half shittin' empty it's half fucking full."

"I don't get it…" Libby looks at me, then looks at her glass, then looks back at me 'n' all of a sudden her face scrunches and she lets out a laugh that my Nan would approve of. "It's half fuckin' full. Love it." She downs the clear liquid. Attractively wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. Think there was maybe a little tiny bit of cross purpose there, 'cause what I really meant was that in the shittin' great depression that I am in; I ain't lost all of my optimism about life. "Gimme' some smore." This time I pour a less generous measure. "Right the list." Libby let's out a ladylike burp which obviously requires a high five before stretching over to the table 'n' picking up the sheet of paper. She studies the scrawl, taking her time then leans over 'n' grasps my knee. "So far we've got….. he's a commitment phobe 'n' what does that shay." The mainly blank piece of paper is pushed under my nose, I have to move my head backwards to read it.

"It says….actually I ain't got a clue, what the hell did I wri…... sorry, no I scored that shit out."

"Why?"

"'Cause he ain't a wanker. Well he is, but he ain't"

The anger that had managed to get me through those 30 odd hours of travelling is finally starting to sod off. Now I only miss him. I'm still not entirely 250% sure of what the fuck happened yesterday; one minute everything was sodden' rosy 'n' lovely 'n' the next wham bam no thank you mam. I'm clinging to the possibility that I'm gonna' wake up in the morning 'n' it'll all be a bad dream. In fact maybe possibly if it were alright with everyone I could wake up the day after the mission 'n' he could be all Captain 'I'm happiest when I'm shoutin' James. "It would be easier to hate him, but I can't." Mind that possibly could be the drink blurring the edges somewhat.

"You do know that's tequila?" Libby slurs.

"Yessshhh 'course."

"Right, just don't hink it's the cleveresst thing to drink it straight out of the bottle."

I fill her glass up 'n' then I feel this horrible familiar sensation 'n' I must make some noise 'cause Libby passes me over a tissue, lettin' me have a sob, even patting me consolingly on the hand though she never once stops sipping from her glass. "Do you think you can love again Libs? Like, if this is, like what he says it is. Will I ever meet someone I feel like that with again?"

"Would you want to?"

"Fair point I 'spose." Looking down at my glass, twisting it in my fingers I shrug. "Probably not if I'm honest, I don't think I could go through this again." It hurts; all the memories of how it ended, how I'd fought for us 'n' then how I'd dramatically given up are swirling around my mind. It don't help that I've got all the other shit going on, the ghosts that I don't think will ever leave me.

I'd nearly missed the bleedin' ferry 'cause I'd refused to get on before him. Only by the skin of my teeth managing to get up the foot passengers ramp when the roof of his car had safely disappeared from my viewpoint onto the ferry; 'cause there was no way I was ever leaving him behind again.

Half way through the journey he'd found me, not that I was hiding or nothing but I was gettin' a bit fed up with folk giving me funny looks 'cause of my puffy face. Anyway it was better to be sitting outside on a hard plastic wet seat on a grey dull day with the smell of diesel from the funnel on the ferry adding to the the general feeling of miserableness and motion sickness to end our shittin' shitty adventure. I'd looked up 'n' he'd been standing there, staring at me with a polystyrene cup in his hand. He'd looked like there was something he really wanted to say. By this point I'd given up hopin' that it was gonna' be 'I've made a mistake' or 'come back to me.' - Christ I can feel tears pricking the back of my eyes even thinking of those words - knowing those weren't gonna' be the words I would hear. Surprise surprise I was right, 'here' were the only words he said, handing the burning hot cup to me and then sitting down. Then there had been silence between us, neither of us knowing what to say. I'll never forget the sounds as we'd both sipped from the steaming polystyrene cups not wanting to make eye contact with each other. By this time it was pissin' down again, the raindrops hittin' loudly off our waterproofs dulling the noise of the engines as the boat seemed to struggle to make it's way back. Only occasionally a seagull would swoop overhead, breaking the silence, then sod off out of it as it realised it ain't getting any food. When I looked over at him he was watching me, and for some reason I'd smiled at him. Reaching over he'd gone to tuck my hair back into my hood, stop it getting wet, a kind of caring and possessive gesture but I'd flinched. It weren't meant, 'cause you can't stop from wanting someone to touch you in a day or two; I'm puttin' it down to bein' a bit stubborn 'n' not gettin' my own way. I regret it though, 'cause something crossed those dark eyes 'n' he'd dropped his head to take more interest in his coffee. God give me a broken bone over this pain any day.

Libby pushes herself up from the couch, struggling to find her centre of gravity. "I know we need to be quiet. But it's not a party without some music is it?"

Music that's what I need, that'll all make it better. "Good shout Libs, get some Madonna on."

Staggering as she turns Libs gives me the thumbs up. It takes a few attempts for her to press the right button by which time I'm staring at my list beggin' myself to find something else negative to put down that'll help this heart break. "Do you think I should phone him?"

We hadn't said a proper goodbye. Or I hadn't said goodbye. Standing up 'n' tellin' him that I was gonna' go to the toilets, his face lifting up to mine. He looked fuckin' sad, looking away from me at the houses that were starting to dot the coastline. Even me with no idea of the geography around here knew that we must be gettin' close, itching to get my stuff 'n' work out how I was gonna' get off the boat without embarrassing myself. Speaking, coughing to clear his throat he'd asked, his eyes not meeting mine. "Are you going to say goodbye." It had been easy to start walking backwards 'n' utter the words. "I don't do goodbye's. Sorry." He'd nodded his head, focussing somewhere else 'n' it had been easy to turn 'n' walk away, biting my lip to stop me crying but it hadn't helped, by the time I'd collected my bags and hidden in the lavs until I'd heard the bing of an announcement, my face was a snotty, tear stained mess.

Taking the tequila off me Libby sips it, thinking. "It's 2 in the morning, you could leave him a message."

"What would I say?" Picking up my phone, scrolling through the names I feel my eyes startin' to go together.

"What do you want to say?"

"That we could be friends."

"Wouldn't work."

"Why not?"

"Just don't work, take Smurf." Libby looks towards the door of her bedroom. "He's an alright bloke but if we stopped having sex well then I'd finish with him. You can't be friends with a man. It doesn't work."

"It's not just about the sex with him though is it?"

"Yes, I don't love him or anything. We've got it sorted though. I'm in charge, I call the shots in the relationship and he follows. If it changes well as I said we'd go our separate ways."

I'm not quite sure that does sum up their relationship but I let it go, too concerned about reminiscing. "It weren't all about the sex with us. Not that it weren't brilliant, but there's a connection, it's everything - our humour, he makes me laugh 'n' I've never felt as secure as when I was with him. I honestly thought we could have made it work, it was all I wanted. " I've hit the button, watching as the screen lights up telling me that it's dialing his number. "I shouldn't have left him."

"WHAT are you doing?"

The phone is pulled out my hands and deftly the wanker disconnects the call. "Shit Molls, what did I tell you? Don't get fucking pissed and phone him." Smurf puts his hand on his hips, staring at me. "And you." When I look up he's now giving Libs the death stare. "I told you, didn't I. Don't let her bleedin' phone him if she gets tanked up."

"She made me."

"You were meant to be sleepin'." I offer as way of defense. "It's 2 in the morning."

"How can I sleep when there's a disco going on in the room next to me. " I don't think Smurf is good with not much sleep. In fact I should know that, what with having spent nearly six months in a tent with him and listening to the grumpy little shit whinging if for any reason he hadn't got enough sleep to do a sleep deprived toddler. "Molls….." The words die on his lips as the screen of my phone illuminates. "Shit it's him. Please Molls don't answer it. Your fucking steaming."

"You answer it." I'm suddenly sober. "I can't talk to him Smurf I'll start crying. Please."

"It's fine we'll let it go to voicemail." The voice of reason, he looks around him at the mess. "I think you two should start clearing up and then get yourselves to bed."

"Ooh sexy bossy smurfy boy, keep talking like that and you are so getting it." Smurf's cocky smile at Libby's come-on line dies as the screen of my phone lights up again, he looks at me questioningly before reluctantly handing it over to me.

I study the screen for a few seconds, deciding, takin' a deep breath. "Hi."

"Hi. You okay?" The tears that I knew would come at the sound of his tired weary voice 'n' knowing that I'm not there with him start, widening my eyes to try and keep them at bay before I give it away by answering him, he obviously gets concerned. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"In the flat. You?" I ask softly, turning away from Smurf and Libby, standing on the other side of the couch, too tense to lean against it.

There's the sound of relief in his voice and then he pauses, weighing up his words. "I'm at my parents for tonight. Tomorrow I'm heading to Rebecca's. Spending time with Sam. Stay there for a while."

"That'll be good."

"Yes I'm looking forward to it. Look Molly, I'm sorry about everything. I know now that I didn't handle it well and that I've hurt you in the process. I let it all get out of hand, should have been stronger, not used you to plug a gap in my emotions."

"You calling me a plug?"

A soft laugh comes through from the other end. "No." I hear another voice, speaking to him, the words too quiet for me to make out. He answers them, the line going echoey as if he's covered the mic and then he's back, sighing. "My mum, sorry."

"It's alright, say hi to her for me?" I'm hoping that he tells me that she's angry with him, that she realises that he needs me, that someone is gonna' be the voice of bloody reason in all of this.

"She's good, she baked a cake. Wants me to tell you that it's the best one yet." I'm probably imagining the wistfulness in his voice, or maybe it's 'cause he's desperate for a bit of cake and she's really made it bleedin' unedible again.

Disappointment, the understanding that she probably doesn't think there's anything going on between us wells up. "Tell her that's great. I'm pleased for her." I scrunch my eyes up as my voice breaks, trying to hide it with the clearing of my throat.

"Molly, there's a saying, well a quotation…."

"I've never really been a fan of them, my first CO used to shout at us all the time that there's no I in team."

"It was maybe slightly more profound than that."

"Yeah 'n' well there is a me in team ain't there…. So well that…"

"If you truly love someone, all you want is for them to be happy…."

"Does it finish with 'so you make them happy because you can'?"

"No not quite. Google it sometime, for me, okay?"

"I dunno' I'm a bit pissed with you 'cause." Reality is starting to get through the alcohol muddle of my brain. "You still think you've made the right decision don't you?" Silence. "What if I said we could be friends." I'm starting to panic. "We could meet up next week? Talk 'bout it when we've both calmed down."

"I don't think that would be a good idea Molly." There's no ignoring the break in his voice this time.

"Charles…"

"Molly." I think I'll scream if someone else says my name. "Give me the phone, there's no point tonight you're too emotional." Smurf puts his hand on my shoulder, still standing by my side even though I've shrugged his contact off.

"Please, understand." Charles interrupts, keeping our conversation going. " We've been through so much, and we're both too involved to see clearly."

"What 'cause it was my fault that you were taken?"

"No but you've summed it up." His voice is detached, like he was back to being my CO. "You think it was your fault, you're carrying around all this guilt and me well, I think it was all my fault too. Doesn't exactly make a healthy relationship does it? And if there's one thing I've learned in life it's that for it to work, you need the best start."

"So this is it then? You don't give a shit about my feelings."

"We've been through this." A pause, a profound great pause then the words that finish it for me. "Goodbye Molly." I can hear the scraping of a chair on the other end of the line, I can sense Smurf's hand patting me consolingly on my arm but I can't feel or hear my heart. "Please say it back."

Shaking my head, forgetting that he can't see me. I take a minute to control my breathing. "No never." And with that I disconnect the call. There's a weird feeling of calm that's spreading over me as the screen returns to darkness. When I turn round Smurf and Libby are both looking at me, concern on their face. I bury all my thoughts 'cause it's far too painful not to and then I smile, making sure I make eye contact with both of them. "Well, that'll be that then. Men are like buses right?"

 **Thanks everyone for not hating me, hope you can still stay with me, we will get there I promise. Sometimes I forget I'm only writing a story because of how much everyone loves the characters from OG - including me obviously. I'm as keen as everyone to have them both where they should be - together. To Karen the reviewer who asked if I did get the reviews, I most certainly did and appreciate people taking the time - I'm a very lucky girl (that was said tongue in cheek because I'm a few years over that) with the support I get. Oh and if you can't be bothered googling -**

 _ **If you truly love someone, all you want is for them to be happy, even if deep down, all you want is for you to be their happiness.** _


	17. I'm Still Waiting

The London Eye is motionless; the City sprawled out spectacularly in front of me. You think you're used to the view; a childhood brought up accepting that the place you live in is boring, constrictive. The history of it all something to be endured during school 'n' we all know I was well shit at that. Years of laughing with your mates when tourists get excited by your hometown, sniggering at how sad people can be getting worked up at something as mundane as the Changing of the Guards. Then you leave, live life with all it's ups 'n' downs 'n' get used to the ground gettin' pulled out from under your feet every way you turn and you come back 'n' well it's home. So I'm here, sitting on Parliament Hill, as awestruck as the handful of hardened tourists who've also braved the bitterly cold winter morning to stare in amazement at the beauty of London as it wakes up.

There is something settling inside of me that I've made a decision. A tube ride every day from Barracks 'n' I'll be pounding the paths of Hampstead Heath instead of running along a pissy promenade. Something's I'll miss of course, like Bill but I can still remember the relief when I was told of my next posting, everything for once fitting into place and I could come back here; home. I need to, I'm tired of hiding away.

I'm gettin' there, slowly. Still waking up in the middle of the night sometimes 'n' having a stampede of dread that I should have waited. But I did, for 3 months 'n' there was nothing. He didn't even reply to my texts so well I had to get on with it. You've got to ain't you? It's been 5 months now and apart from the occasional panic I'm happy with my life, accepting of how everything has turned out.

"Molly, look to the right a bit more. That's it." I do as I ask, giggling as I hear him sighing at the face I pulled. I'm doing a favour, a huge favour seeing as I bleedin' hate gettin' my picture taken so I also give him the finger then I take it seriously, letting the wind whip my hair against my face as I stare at the panoramic view. "Think some happy thoughts."

"What the fuck you on about mate?" The heel of my hand sinks into the grass as I turn and look at him, crouched down as he takes another picture. I can hear the rapid sound of the shutter closing, finishing whatever he wants to capture before he pulls the camera down. He scrunches his eyes up with concentration as he looks at the screen at the back, taking his time before he looks up at me. I swallow against the guilt as embarrassed, caught out his shoulders come up to meet his ears. "You look sad, you've always got this haunted look in your eyes when you think no one's watching."

Tony puts up with a lot, more than he'll ever know. I hope. He's a good lad he doesn't deserve to realise what's going on in my nut, to realise how fucked up one person can be. "Well at least there's something going on there, my teachers always used to say that they thought I'd been forgotten 'bout when brains were being handed out." Standing up I wipe my hands together to try and get rid of the cold damp grass cuttings that are sticking to my palms. Moving over to sit on a bench. I laugh as he sits down next to me, carefully placing his camera down on the seat. He loves that camera, more than me but that's fine. It suits me, makes us a bit more equal.

It turns out men _are_ like buses. Unfortunately it's like you're waiting on an executive private hire 'n' instead it's a bog standard red bus that comes along. But you're still gonna' get to roughly the same destination so well you take it. Accepting that you're gonna' get off a few stops short of happiness. Anyway Tony was sort of at the platform waiting for me, someone who was interested, could make me laugh 'n' helped with that feeling of loneliness that I thought was gonna' swallow me up.

"Your Nan is some case." Some case is Tony's way of saying she's a difficult old mare. He's looking for reassurance, his blue eyes wary as he watches me. A shift to a glimmer of amusement as I giggle remembering her constant ribbing, his look of horror when my Dad had joined in too. Saying that I couldn't blame them. It had been like he was doing a job interview, trying to impress them with his hopes of becoming a journalist as well as continuing as a photographer. His face animated as he told them he wanted to break the next big story giving them miles of scope to take the piss. I'd wanted him to come back with a witty remark, to put them in their place but he doesn't have that sharpness 'n' anway was too nervous to even realise that they weren't exactly being complementary when they compared him to a cross between Bill Turnbull 'n' that David Bailey as they put it. "Didn't think I was going to come out alive." It's having someone who can make me laugh that I miss most.

"Many before you ain't mate, you're one of the lucky ones." We move along the bench, guessing that the strange language and gestures of the tourist in front of us is asking us to do that. Wrapping my arms around me, shifting until the wooden arm is digging into my side I nod to the space I've created between us. "You can put your camera in there."

"Heaven forbid Molly that we ever have a public display of affection." Lifting his hat off briefly he runs his hands through his short cropped blond hair before organising the precious camera. His expression as if he's entertained by the situation, placing his elbow on the back of the seat as he watches me, then he thinks of something. "Any suggestions for what I do today? Who is it your meeting again?"

The strap of the camera is sitting across my thigh, annoying me so I push it off. "A friend that's all, catching up 'cause she's in London too." A tinge of red is making it's way across my cheeks 'n' I hope it's not light enough yet for him to notice. If he does he doesn't say anything, instead looking back across at London. "I dunno' maybe you could find somewhere else to take some photo's 'n' then you could head back to my parents."

"What time you meeting your friend?"

I'm not oblivious to the tone he used, a heavier pronunciation on friend but it's easy to ignore it. I don't need to explain myself to him. "Not sure yet, she's gonna' text me when she's free. I'll head into town, do a bit of shoppin'. I can give you a text once I'm finished let you know when I should be back 'n' we could pop out 'n' get something to eat."

"Okay. I'll probably hang about then. Wait for you to call."

"You don't have to." What I mean is that I don't want him to. Knowing I'm gonna' need some time to myself afterwards, already thinking that I might head back to the hill 'n' sit; get things straight in my nut.

Tony stands up, lifting his camera. He's hurt. Sometimes I wonder if this is how Charles felt, knowing that his heart wasn't in it but having to watch me try and do all the loving for two people 'cause in my memory everything is blurred 'bout when it all went to shit. "Fine, I'll get you back at your parents."

"Take care of yourself alright." I can feel the relief building, trying to hold onto it until he's gone, standing up 'n' putting my arms around him. He hugs me tighter but I'm first to pull away, walking away knowing that he's gonna' be standing there watching me until I'm out of sight.

-og-

My hands are tingling as the heat of the restaurant warms up my blood supply. I look around the tables of people on their lunch hour, checking to see if Judy's here yet but she's not. Probably lost 'n' in a few minutes I'll get a text asking for even more directions. Heading over I choose a window seat, sure that she'll appreciate the sight of St Paul's out the window. Yawning, tired 'cause I didn't sleep well last night I read the menu for something to do. My eyes feel heavy, a contradiction to the somersaults my heart's currently doing. This never gets easier.

She must of slipped in without me noticing, a glass of wine placed down in front of me. "It's only 12.30." I laugh as I look up into the comforting warm brown eyes that are familiar and heart breaking at the same time. "I have a rule, never before 2."

"Yes well, if you drank bloody coffee I would have got you an espresso darling but I didn't think tea would cut it when you were showing your tonsils to the whole restaurant. The army keeping you busy?"

My rule goes out the window as I take a sip, trying not to grin as I appreciate the cold sharpness of the drink. She's right it is what I needed. "Nah, been on leave. No excuse really. Well except for a household of my family. That would challenge anyone."

Laughing, the soft lines around her eyes fanning out she leans over and pats my hand. "You'll be wanting to get back to work for a break then."

"Something like that." The chair creaks as I sit back and pick up the menu, studying it for a minute before looking at her over the top. I giggle out loud, amused as she delves through her handbag for the glasses perched on top of her head. "They're on your bleedin' nut."

"One day, it'll be you." She tries to fix me with an intimidating stare, giving up when I continue to laugh and with her glasses on she too starts to work out what to eat. Placing the menu down she tips her head to the side. "It's good to see you Molly. It's been too long." There's a telling off in that sentence. "George passes on his congratulations, mind you it was followed with a tell the girl that she had better start working towards Corporal now. We gave him a row, think you should take some of the pressure of yourself. Ch.. " I block the emotions quickly, clearing my throat and not looking at her. "Anyway, It's important you choose when you're ready to move up." Her face is uncomfortable, her blinks more rapid. We both know what she was going to say. We both know that she knows, has worked out or been told what happened between her son and I but she never talks about him. On these occasions where she trips up I accept her bumblings attempts to right it with a naive innocent look.

"I see Rebecca's pregnant." Facebook, the wonders of social media. Her page unfollowed by me 'cause I don't want to unsuspectingly come across a picture of him. There had been too many likes though, or some reason for it to pop up on my news feed. I hadn't delved any deeper, pressed like and moved on. Now I wish I hadn't let the words out of my gob - I'm too scared off the details, already practising a smile should she tell me the words that I dread.

Picking up the menu again, Judy raises her eyebrows as she concentrates on what she's gonna' order. "Gosh yes. Heading towards the 7 months now I think. Sam's finally coming round to it. Well as long as it's a brother. I think he'll disown a sister or so he says."

"Tell her congratulations won't you." I down my wine then look at my watch.

"Have you got somewhere to be. I haven't made you late have I?"

"No of course not. I'm just wondering if it's too early for another glass of wine." I try to catch the attention of a server, typically all of them busy in my moment of need.

"Molly." Judy clears her throat. "Rebecca's boyfriend has told Sam that if it is a girl, then he can have a dog to make up for it. Anyway how is Libby?"

Nodding, acknowledging that she's let me know in her own way that it ain't Charles's, I wait for the relief to sink in but it doesn't come. I still need a drink, struggling to think of who Libby even is, I wonder if Judy can hear my heart pounding until I get my thoughts back in order. "She's good, her and Smurf are moving in together. Glad that I'm moving out I think."

"Back to London."

"Yeah."

"And you'll still be able to keep in touch with her won't you?"

"It's only an hour 'n' a half so I'll keep in touch and Ton… well anyone who wants to visit can stay over at my parents 'n' I can do the same." I can't tell her that I'm seeing someone, it doesn't seem right whenever I try saying it in my nut. It always seem to sound as if I'm boasting or wanting her to run back and tell him as if I'm proving a point which I'm not. Is there a chance that he'd care? I don't think so. I've given up thinking that he'd be bothered. "At least I won't have to listen to them at it all the time."

Judy rolls her eyes, possibly 'cause we've finally attracted the attention to get our order taken. "That has to be down as one of the most annoying ways to be kept awake. Remember from the days in Halls when I was at University."

"Is that where you met George?"

"Two large glasses of wine please, the crab and the tagliatelle. Thank you." Once the order is in Judy looks at me over the top of her glasses, winking. "We probably shouldn't talk about that."

"Why?"

"Doesn't exactly paint me in the best light but well, it was the uniform I suppose. Never could really say no and I know that you probably can't see it now." She leans forward, lowering her voice as she confides in me. "George was a bit of a catch in his day. Anyway one night, turned into another and another and then Charles made a surprise appearance. We were quite the rebels in those days. Seemed as if I'd ruined his career but thankfully he managed to ride the wave so to speak and eventually his misdemeanour was forgiven - you see he was engaged to the Lieutenants Generals daughter at the time."

"Yeah we probably shouldn't talk about that then." I say as I clinked my glass against Judy's, both of us bordering on a fit of hysterical laughter but it flicks a switch within me and my emotions stall. I don't dare to make eye contact, fixing my gaze on the pigeons on top of the old building as I ask quietly, in a way hoping she doesn't hear me. "Is he alright?"

There's the feel of her touch, a soft hand covering mine 'n' though I can't look at her, can't bear to see the expression in her eyes there's nothing but kindness as she answers me. "He's getting there Molly. He's getting there."

-og-

It's dark when I make my way along the concrete balcony, pausing at the front door as I search for my keys in my bag when I hear the voice.

"I don't know who you're kidding young lady."

My Nan steps out of the shadows, exhaling a long breath of smoke, taking another puff as she watches me, trying to read me in the calculating knowing you too well way she does. Buying myself time I look through the grubby netting of the living room window, making out Tony sitting on the couch drinking a beer as he agrees with whatever shit Dave is saying; it's mundane, boring, safe. Joining her I stay silent, accepting the offer of the outstretched cigarette as we both lean against the railings and look out to the soon to be knocked down football stadium. It's a few minutes before I speak. "I ain't kiddin' myself if that's what you're worried about. But."

"But." She prompts.

"I'm fond of him Nan, that's gotta' count for something ain't it?"

"Yeah but he's got the right to be with someone who loves him Molls."

I look up into the dark, light polluted sky. It's hard to believe that the stars that I saw in Afghan are still there. Suddenly I feel small in this world, inconsequential as if nothing that I do matters. Stubbing out the cigarette I shrug, a sharpness to my voice at the meddling of Nan. "I do. In my own way."

 **Thanks as always for reading, I'm aware that these chapters are more fillers but I promise he'll be back on the page shortly. I'm sorry if people are finding it too depressing, I think because I know where I'm going with it I don't realise how hard a read it can be so I appreciate you've got to this point and are still giving me encouraging comments. You want to tell a story but it's finding the right balance between there being conflict and character growth and boring the tits of everyone and making it all a bit too sad and angsty and well everything else - it's all such a learning curve!**


	18. Half The World Away

"That one's nice."

I've realised there's a habit forming with this 'n' I take a sip of my nearly finished glass of warm bucks fizz under the eagle eyes of the rapidly pissed off assistant. She smooths her immaculate suit down hinting at trying to keep herself busy. Giving up trying to hurry us along. A far cry from the woman who greeted us like lottery winners when we walked into the shop. Oh how 7 hours of wedding dress choice with the old bats can change that. I wait, counting, I don't even get to 5. .

Candy doesn't disappoint, standing up from her grey velvet sofa 'n' slowly walking around with hands on her hips as she gives some serious consideration; channeling her inner Gok. Unsurprisingly her glass of cheap plonk is still full, sittin' tantalisingly out of reach where she'd placed it when the first dress had come out. It's a close call who's eyeing it up more - me or Nan. "I'm not sure if it suits you love, what with you being so fit, there isn't a pick of anything on you lovely."

"Shut up Candy, what do you think Molls?" Nan stands with her arms crossed and looks at me, it's her don't you dare bleedin' not tell the truth or I'm gonna' kill you stare. It nearly works.

My eyes continue to flick towards a dress. The one that I'd walked over too when we'd entered the shop and Nan and Candy had started tellin' the sales assistant what we were looking for. I'd almost not breathed as I'd stood beside it. My fingers had been scared to touch the delicate fabric, my eyes hovering over the price tag as I'd calculated if I'd ever be able to justify something so beautiful. But it's all a moot point 'cause I ain't ever getting married. The selfish part of me is dreading Libby spotting it, of having to see the dress that I've fallen in love with on someone else - I ain't proud of myself. "It's alright Nan, but the second one is still my favourite." The second one had nearly brought tears from everyone 'n' that's what they say isn't it - that if that happens you know. Libby smiles gratefully at me, probably due to her being keen to get out of here so that she can meet Smurf in the pub and have a moan about her future Mother-in-law. "What do you think Libs?"

"I think that I could get married in a sack and be happy."

"Don't be silly love, it's your day." Or the way it's going it's Candy's but I don't interrupt, or look at Nan 'cause she's snorted 'n' that's never a good sign. "But don't you think the second one made you look like a tennis player on steroids."

"No that was the 3rd."

"Was it."

"Yeah, remember the colour made her look all washed out too?"

"I still think it was the 2nd." Candy sounds less sure, her Welsh lilt dropping as she's met with Nan's persuasive stare. The stare off only lasts a few seconds 'n' then Candy's backing down. "Can we try the second one again."

Libby huffs loudly jumping athletically off the podium, dramatically she lifts the rows and rows of netting on the meringue of a dress and storms off to the changing room. For once the assistant doesn't follow, inspecting her nails, her lips seem to be twitching in a way that suggests she's counting to 10 as she does. I follow my friend, picking up the abandoned glass of fizz on my way and as I reach the changing room I hand it to the deflated person sunk down on the seat in front of me.

"I'm gonna' fuckin' kill her as you would say."

"Sorry I thought bringing my Nan would help but they're as bad as bleedin' each other. Stand up and 'll help you out your dress."

Draining the glass 'n' handing it to me Libby does what I ask. Turning her back to me I start the painful task of undoing each button, cursing to myself at the fiddliness of the task. Looking up I meet her gaze in the mirror; she's watching me, a sad smile working its way up her face. She isn't the same girl who greeted me at the station this morning, that one had looped her arm through mine with excitement at the thought of spending a few hours trying on pretty dresses; this one's shoulders slump causing me to lose grip of the small fastening I had nearly freed. "I almost don't want to marry Smurf just to piss her bloody off."

"You love him don't you?"

"Yes of course I do but I'm not sure enough to put up with her." Libby points towards the plush heavy curtains, where the sound of Candy's voice can be clearly heard discussing head dresses from the other side.

My fingers are starting to cramp, flexing my hand to try and ease it as I think of what to say. I don't look at my ex-flatmate remembering what if felt like to be in utter love instead carrying on with my uncomfortable task. "Listen Libs, I've known you nearly 2 years now 'n' the girl I met wouldn't admit that she liked anyone. Wouldn't dare trust her own shadow 'n' he's changed you." It's true, she's blossomed since she fell into the Welsh wankers bed; gradually learning to believe in him. "You look at him as if your scared he's gonna' leave the room, you hug him, he's made your life better, made you better." The dress pools onto the ground as I finish, leaving Libby standing there in her pretty matching underwear. There was a time long ago when I bothered 'bout shit like that too. "Don't let a woman whose life has got interesting 'cause her only living son is marrying a girl that she treats like the daughter she never had ruin any chance of happiness. Remember, none of us are wholly bad or good. She m..."

"What?"

"He's made you a better pe…."

"No, the wholly bad thing."

I shrug not understanding the look that's crossing Libby's pretty features. "It's just a sayin' I heard once."

"Shit Molls, he's going to be there."

"Who?" I ask with mock innocence, picking the dress up from the floor, my hands shaking as I try get it to stay on the padded hanger. A trickle of fear is making it's way down my back.

"Charles."

For something to do I smooth the heavy fabric trying to buy myself time whilst waiting for the loud pounding in my ribcage to stop before I turn.

"Candy's asked him to do a reading. It's the only thing that Smurf has tried to stand up to her for but she sees it as important, he spoke at Geraint's funeral so she thinks it would be lovely if he spoke at the wedding. I asked Smurf not to tell you because I need you there. Crap friend I am." The words are rushing from her mouth, her voice becoming less and less confident. "I can ask that he's not…"

"It's fine." I'm telling myself that too, my voice surprisingly strong when I interrupt her. And then I tell her what I tell myself at least once a day. " Do you know we had less than a week together. In over 3 years we've had a bit of flirting, a kiss and a few glorious days 'n' that's been it." My chin tips up, crossing my arms across my chest. "Bein' sensible I know that's not enough to give up your life for. Anyway I'm not in love with him anymore, that stopped. I'm not sure when but I've moved on. I love Tony, in a different way yeah but maybe even a better way 'cause it's easy, there ain't the highs but there certainly ain't the lows." I take a deep brave breath. "There's no space in my life for him anymore."

Libby sits down, looking up at me with her eyebrows raised. "You know he's back in don't you?"

"Yeah I'd heard rumours." Our conversation is interrupted when the curtains open, the assistant carrying in the 2nd dress, she leaves it hanging up muttering she has other things to do before she walks back out.

"When Smurf spoke to him, he said he was phasing in and it was taking ages. They were treating him with kid gloves. Don't suppose you can risk someone running around with a loaded gun without knowing they're 100% up there but it must be frustrating. He asked about you, asked if everything in your world was alright or something like that."

"What did he tell him?"

"Smurf said that you were fine that were all. He's still doesn't understand his decision. Supposedly all Charles said in return was good and the conversation finished after that."

My brain has stalled, a certain element of my legs collapsing 'causing me to sit next to Libby. "Do you know, looking on the positive I actually think this is gonna' be good for me." I would be lying if I said that I never thought of him. More times than I'd like to admit it's him I imagine when I'm with Tony, needing his face to help my body climb to a release. Until recently I'd been scared that I'd say the wrong name; painfully trapping my bottom lip between my teeth to stop me crying out. Thankfully I don't have the same fear anymore, my heart and mind having sorted their emotions. My heart is taking the brunt of the pain but even that's diminishing as time moves on. There's an acceptance he was a phase in my life which will stay with me forever, someone to tell my great nieces 'n' nephews about - 'the one who got away' as my Nan would say. "All I have to do is say hello, I don't even need to ask him how he is or anything 'n' I'll have Tony there, well when he's not taking pictures." I can see it now, it'll be the same old. The shutters behind his eyes will still be down, his body language will tell me I'm not what he needs 'n' his voice will be one of carefully controlled emotion. I gave up hoping that he'd come back to me a good few months ago. Maybe even this time I can finally say goodbye; though why the thought still brings tears to my eyes I don't know. "Seeing him will give me closure."

"And you know if Tony's busy if you need me…"

"You'll get Smurf."

We laugh, it feels good 'n anyway it lets me pretend the few tears escaping are from humour rather than sadness. It's Libby who stops first, looking at the dress hanging up, disappointment replaces the ballsy grin she'd been smiling at me with a few minutes ago. "I don't feel this is my wedding. You have a dream about your day don't you? Everything is going to fall into place and then…..."

"Candy takes over?" I offer, nudging my friend to try and get her to smile again.

"And it becomes a fucking memorial service for Geraint. Do you know we've all to do sodding readings, it's not just Charles, she thinks you'll be fine what with you having your English Lit, you'll pull a beautiful poem from the pile of dusty books you've abandoned at ours."

It's a look of horror I give Libby, this news is possibly even more of a bombshell than him being there. "She can fuck off I'm not standing up 'n' doin' a reading on bloody love."

"Good luck telling her that." With a sigh she stands and walks over to her dress, her fingers trace the over abundance of swarovski crystal. "I was never a girly girl anyway so a perfect dress isn't the end of the world. It's in my dream my wedding was always going to be fun. A laugh. I'd be beautiful in the perfect dress of course; but it'd be more about Smurf and I getting pissed and having a good time; everyone having a good time. Not sitting for a boring wedding service followed by an overpriced meal at a fancy hotel."

There isn't anything I can do about the logistics. I even have a certain amount of sympathy for Candy havin' to organise a wedding at short notice, a need to seal the deal before Smurf gets deployed on a 6 month training exercise. But I do know of a dress that would be perfect, probably even better on the taller elegant frame of Libby. Why the fuck am I keeping it away from my best mate anyway when I know I'm never gonna' have the same feelings as her for someone ever again? If I do ever get married it's gonna' be 'cause it's the sensible thing to do, not done out of naive love 'n' certainly not with the bloke I pictured waiting for me at the end of the aisle. In 7 weeks it'll be over, another chapter of us closed - maybe even the end of the book 'n' we'll go back to living half the world away from each other. "Give me a minute Libs." I leave, walking confidently across the shop over to my dress, hearing the footsteps of the assistant tapping across the wooden floor behind me.

"That's not in your price range I'm afraid."

Selfishly hesitating for a brief second I have one last image of wearing the dress before reverentially lifting it down, folding it over my arm like I've seen the snotty cow in front of me do many times today. "It is now." I answer not even looking at her. Briefly I nod in the direction of Nan and Candy who are watching me, giggling to myself at their necks twitching with nosiness as I rush back to the changing room.

The look on Libby's face is priceless, one hand landing on my shoulder as her other traces the fine lace. "Don't even look at the price tag, alright. This is gonna' be my wedding present. You could always sell it on ebay afterwards and give me some of the dosh back."

"Shit Molly I love it."

"Good, well let's get it on you."

-og-

Someone who had previously been important to me once said everything in life was luck. For years I'd believed him; psychologically putting everything that had happened down to a shit run of it 'n' feelin' I was caught up in it all with nowhere to go. At this moment in time, standing in a wedding shop watching the delight of the three woman in front of me, I'd have to disagree. The truth is we're all pawns in history. It was never gonna' be me standing wiping tears of happiness from my face with the realisation that everything was fallin' into place. My future secure 'cause I'd met my soul mate 'n' found the perfect dress. I need to accept it. Tipping the champagne glass, draining the refilled drink which magically appeared after the machine had accepted my abused credit card, I smile my first genuine smile for a year. This is my timeline. My story. And I'm ready to say goodbye to the past.

 **Now I know you all say lovely things but I do feel that I'm pushing it with the hand wringing angst for Molly, so the next chapter is very nearly ready to be published, and as soon as I hit the button for this I'll get editing for the next one…. Thanks as always for reading. x**


	19. How Long Will I Love You

My throat is dry, frantically I try to look at everyone in the congregation through the stained glass panes of the old church door. Waiting to catch sight of a tall man with dark curly hair. If I do my immediate plan is to study him, commit the fresh images to memory 'n' then tell myself I'm alright, I'm gonna' be okay. But I can't see him. Not one of the soldiers on Smurf's side tall enough. I look to my friend for reassurance but she looks as nervous as I do, her hand comes out towards me for an encouraging squeeze. "It's gonna' be alright I promise."

She smiles at me, nods. "It'll be alright for you too okay." Letting go of my hand she holds her bouquet again and stares straight ahead. "Let's hope that Candy doesn't smell the drink of our breaths. I think that's what's worrying me the most."

"I don't think I could have gone through with this if I hadn't had some dutch courage."

"And we were quite sensible with what we drank."

"Absobloodylutely. High five us."

"Are you ready?"

Libby's tongue darts out and sweeps across her bottom lip, her default stress mechanism kicking in at the question from the suited man who'd introduced himself 10 minutes ago. He had a patience to him when he'd explained what was gonna' happen as if he was used to brides crappin' it at the last minute. .

"No can we have five minutes." I ask, waiting for a negative response which I don't get instead the man smiles at me backing away to give us more time. "Listen Libs, I really really promise this is the best decision you've ever made."

"You will get drunk with me at the reception won't you. You'll not become all sensible? There will be some fun in this?"

I giggle at her rush of questions, nodding my head in agreement. "Can't get this dressed up can we 'n' not have a bit of a party."

She looks me up and down, her breathing becoming more regular as she does. "That colour suits you, if he's here he's going to fall in love with you again."

"Let's hope not." I didn't choose the pale pink dress for the reason Libby suggested, I chose it because I felt good in it 'n' hoped it'd give me some confidence. "Don't think Tony would be too happy 'bout that and anyway I can't see him, think he's maybe got cold feet."

"If he had any sense." My best friend goes up on her tip-toes as she too peers through the glass. "probably the instruction manual he would have received from Candy would have put him off, maybe even he got confused as to whether he was attending a memorial for Geraint or a bloody wedding."

"We really need to get you going." The kindly clergy interrupts us and smiles, his hand reaching out for the door. I suppose this is all a bit unusual. Libby's lack of family meaning she's only got me and a few friends, no one to walk her down the seemingly endless aisle. "Remember" He winks at her. "This is meant to be the best day of your life."

She rolls her eyes, swallowing repeatedly as he opens the door, even without the music starting half the congregation turn, a murmur breaking out. "I really shittin' don't want to do this."

"You're really shittin' going to have to."

The surprising words from the Clergyman has us snorting, possibly fuelled by the champagne but even he's grinning at us, amused at himself. It lightens the mood enough for Libby to roll her shoulders, clear her throat 'n' put one hand down and smooth her dress, a smile still on her face. "Come on let's get this over with."

"Yeah 'cause I really can't wait to take the piss out of you for being Mrs Smurf." The end of my sentence is accompanied by the loud stirring chords of the wedding march, the traditional music being chosen by Libby and Smurf because Candy didn't like anything else they suggested, I'm appreciating it. The confident beat drowning out the sound of my heart hammering. I'd maybe thought that day in the wedding shop I was a brave person, but in the cold light of day I'm not. I want this all to be over.

I have the chance for one final check of everybody in the Church as I stand up from giving Libby's train a final time wasting adjustment. There's a sheen of sweat on my hands as I pick up my bouquet from where I'd carefully placed it on the floor. He's not in the congregation I'm 90 % sure now. Probably 'cause he didn't want to see me. It's fine 'cause I didn't really want to see him either 'n' I try and tell myself the disappointment I feel is because I ain't gonna' get the closure I so badly need.

Needlessly, following the survival plan I'd spent the night lying awake 'n' thinking of I keep my eyes fixed on the edge of the train of the dress in front of me as it sweeps down the polished parquet flooring. A rhythmical sway to the motion. My peripheral vision looking for anything suggesting he could be here. I manage to not raise my eyes once, nothing catching my attention; nobody matching my memory of him. Only when I'm safely at the altar do I breathe again.

"Smile Molly." Tony's kneeling on a step, his camera angled towards me, I do as he asks, relief making the smile remarkably close to genuine. "Have I told you you look beautiful?" He takes the opportunity of Smurf and Libby havin' a brief conversation with each other 'n' of course Candy to talk to me, a blush making it's way up my neck.

"Piss off mate, 'n' anway the make up girl wouldn't agree with you, what with the amount of concealer she had to use."

Standing up he angles the camera towards Libby 'n' Smurf, the rapid closure of the lens loud compared to his hushed whisper. "You are beautiful, and you're mine."

"Steady on, I ain't nobody's I'll have you know." Sometimes he doesn't half remind me of an immature Smurf.

Tony laughs, shaking his head. "I can't wait to dance with you Miss Dawes."

"Well I've got two left feet so I'd downgrade your excitement."

"Molly." Candy sidles up to me, whispering out the side of her mouth. "Bit of a change of plan we're going to get you to read first lovely, that alright?"

I wonder if it's 'cause Charles hasn't turned up, "That's fine." I'd never taken much notice of the order before and try to quell the stirring of disappointment starting again in the pit of my stomach. "Probably best to get it over with."

"The vicar's going to say something then they'll be a prayer and a hymn then it'll be you but don't worry I'll introduce you."

-og-

"And now" Candy smiles at the congregation. Working each row in turn. I'm tellin' you she ain't half in her element. I think she should maybe retrain as a minister or something, 'cause she'd be a piss wedding planner, she'd out voice the bride at every turn. "The lovely Molly Dawes is going to read a passage from…..." You can hear a pin drop as Candy tries to work out the name in front of her. "Miss Eleanor Goulding. New one on me but…. It's from her fairly recent Halcyon works ." Libby helpfully snorts 'n' she's not the only one a ripple running through the assembled guests. When did I ever think this was a good idea?

I realise what it must have felt like to walk the plank, the imminent feeling of everything about to crash around you. My head feels light, not enough air in this place for me to fill my lungs 'n' I don't look out when I eventually finish my walk of shame 'n' get to the pulpit. I don't even acknowledge the sniggers of laughter the microphone being too far above me causes, instead clearing my throat 'n' gettin' ready to start reading. If the fuckers at the back can't hear it's no great loss. I'm just glad Charles ain't here. He might have thought the words were about him rather than a drunken random song selection when Libby 'n' I had been pissed 'n' couldn't be arsed goin' through boring poems. Well okay I'd been Brahms and Liszt thinking 'bout him 'n' thought this song was the most romantic thing ever but only I know that. I take a few deep breaths, psyching myself up. I should have practised this. Or better idea yet would have been pretending I was sick 'n' not turning up today. Visions of sittin' on the couch with a duvet 'n' a sad film on the tele fill my nut until I look at the front row 'n' see the wankers of Smurf, Brains 'n' Fingers pointing to their watches 'n' trying to hurry me up. With the dry air of the church catching my throat I start.

 _How long will I love you?_

 _As long as stars are above you_

 _And longer, if I can._

Christ this is hard, it's like you want to sing the words. I'm having to really concentrate 'n' I wish I hadn't looked at Candy 'cause she's lookin' all impressed. I'm not even gonna' look at the lads again mind you I've just clocked Libs 'n' it's as if she's conducting me, swaying in her seat. Biting my lip I manage to contain a giggle, the words swimming in front of me. Possibly the slightly fuzzy feeling in my nut could be due to our earlier aperitif or the sinking of two bottles of champagne which it more honestly was.

 _How long will I need you?_

 _As long as the seasons need to_

 _Follow their plan._

That doesn't even make sense, maybe she wrote it when she was pissed or after shagging Prince Harry lucky cow.

 _How long will I be with you?_

 _As long as the sea is bound to_

 _Wash upon the sand._

I don't like that verse 'cause it does make me think of him. Memories of a good time on a beautiful Scottish Island being with a man you categorically 100% loved rather than someone who…. well you don't but then again there's also the recollection of being dumped on a crappy Scottish beach. That ain't so good. There's the sound of someone clearing their throat 'n' I realise I've paused, for a minute I panic having lost track of where I am 'n' then I remember, lookin' up 'n' explaining my shoulders rising as I do . "Sorry there was a bit of a musical interludey bit there." My skin starts to feel warm with embarrassment as there's the sound of laughter working it's way through the congregation but it gives me time to pause, to collect myself 'cause the worst verse is coming up.

 _How long will I want you?_

 _As long as you want me to_

 _And longer by far._

Taking a sip of water, not caring it's the vicars 'cause hopefully it'll give everyone the impression it was a dry throat causing my voice to break ever so slightly, I swallow, running the next few verses together so I can get this over with.

 _How long will I hold you?_

 _As long as your father told you,_

 _As long as you can._

 _How long will I give to you?_

 _As long as I live through you_

 _However long you say._

I'm not sure what makes me look up. Why I choose to look straight at the last row on Libby's side or how my eyes seem to meet his so easily but I find myself staring into a pair of heart wrenchingly familiar dark brown eyes. It's all I can see. Every other colour around him and every sound diminishes 'n' it's us. No one else. In a flicker of a moment those eyes soften, peeling away the months, years of bad memories 'n' it's as if we're standing on a stage on a hot sweaty night in Afghan; the charming wink of a gorgeous unattainable man who's out of my league, a simple gesture creating flurries of emotion in my soul - this time is no different. A smile lightens up his face. His head tilts, encouraging me to continue but he doesn't drop my gaze, doesn't look anywhere else. Proud of me. Supporting me as from memory I finish the last verse.

 _How long will I love you?_

 _As long as stars are above you_

 _And longer, if I may._

And then reality hits me; shit he's here.

 **Thank you to the lovely Emma for helping me with the song choice - it is scarily hard to find a song about love out there without it being about breaking up. And to Jen for yet again reading for me and persuading me that it is okay before I hit publish. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this and at least they're in the same place right, it's not as if there's anything or anybody standing in there way?**


	20. Show Me Love

My footsteps echo loudly in the stillness of the rapidly emptying church, my high heels frustratingly stopping me from going at the speed I want.

I'm not entirely sure he's still gonna' be there but walking up the aisle behind Smurf n' Libby he'd watched me the entire way. I couldn't look away from his deep brown eyes; following me on each 'n' every step. A question was on his face. The features I knew so well crumpled as he'd mouthed something. I hadn't understood but it was enough for me to check the swathes of guests milling about the second I'd finished gettin' my photograph taken, wave briefly at Tony and head back in. Desperate to find him.

The bright light of spring streaming through the large windows mean I'm halfway up the aisle when my eyes get used to the darkness. A few people are still milling around, chatting, laughing. The vicar for one, finding something amusing with the kindly clergyman who I smile nervously at as I pass. A fear is starting to form he's not gonna' be there, for the second time today disappointment tinged with an acknowledgment it would make my life far easier if he wasn't.

Then I see him.

Coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of him, taking the time to watch him unobserved I breath a sigh of relief. Ironically he stands at the alter, taunting me with his sudden reliability. There's something in his stance hinting at a lack of self assurance; he doesn't look comfortable, studying his feet as he twirls his cap in his hand. Out of place. Starting to walk again I'm slower, measured.

"Hi."

Looking up surprised at my interruption his features immediately relax. "Hello" A year. Okay 335 days since we last spoke. "Liked your poem." The compliment he offers brings a flicker of light to his eyes, looking down at me with the same easy expression on his face I've had many nostalgic thoughts about. At my continued silence his eyebrows raise, prompting me for an answer.

"Yeah well anything else sounded like pretentious shit."

He's happy now, not even able to pretend he's annoyed."You're telling me you didn't appreciate my delivery of Dylan Thomas. Hit me where it hurts Dawes" It's contagious, easy to get caught up with then he shifts to a hint of insecurity. "You look beautiful."

I swallow twice, unable to tear my eyes away from him. "Thanks."

We stare at each other, a silent conversation. Possibly we're not on the same page, I'm asking him if he knows I've told someone else I love them 'n' if he'll forgive me; he's maybe wondering if he'll ever get such a great medic in his platoon again. Who knows. He breaks the charged atmosphere, inhaling a breath 'n' looking around him. I follow the journey his eyes are taking, see if anything's interesting but there ain't 'n' when I look back again he's watching me. "Dance with me." I think my head recoils, my ears wanting to get some distance so I can make sure I heard him right. "Later, dance with me." There's a softening note to his repeated request, one which has me nodding. How could I refuse him that.

"Of course I …..."

"Molls." We look at each other in confusion, neither of us understanding who'd want to speak to me in this moment. The bouquet is forcibly removed from my hands. "We are in shittin' great trouble."

"What?"

"Candy… Hi." Libby smiles briefly at Charles, tugging at my shoulders until I'm giving her my full attention. I'm not, my mind is still trying to work out if I should read more into his offer. After all the man who'd walked out of my life had said he'd never be one to dance. "We need a photo of Smurf 'n' I drinking."

"I've no idea what you're on about."

Sighing, she sorts the simple bun on the back of her head, giving herself time for dramatic effect. "Allegedly her favourite photo from her wedding was of her and Smurf's dad sitting in the back of a Jag with a bottle of champagne and two filled glasses. She want's us to bloody replicate it."

"If she wanted that should she not have possibly thought about it before?" Says the melodic voiced sensible Officer beside me. I find myself shaking my head in agreement with him; even though I know why my friend has a huge problem.

Hissing through her teeth Libby is quick to respond. "If she'd been the wedding fucking planner of the year as she thinks, she should of ordered 3 bottles. We've fucking drank them all on the way here."

"Ah." Charles smiles genuinely, shaking his head. "I did wonder."

She's only looking at Charles, having worked out he would have come by himself. "We need someone with a car. There's an offy down the road." I giggle at the way he's scrunched up his nose, clearly not having understood her. It's cute.

"An offy?"

"Off licence, drink shop, saviour of my future relationship with my Mother-In-Law shop. You do have a car?"

"Yes I do …."

"Great, Molls you go too, make sure it's that stuff we drank. She's even bloody clocked that. And make it quick there's only so long I can persuade Tony we want pictures of each guest individually before he puts his foot down or wonders where his….."

"'Course we're on it ain't we. Bit of a road trip for old time sakes eh?"

If he's surprised by the way I take his arm and guide him out of the back entrance of the Church into the old graveyard he doesn't say, matching me stride for stride as we walk across the grass avoiding the graves.

As I walk I'm accompanied by a rushing sound in my ears, I suddenly realise what people have meant by feeling as if the walls are closing in. Tony on one side, Charles on the other 'n' I'm stuck in the middle. Sayin' that, maybe Charles has been dosed up on anti-depressants; I'm possibly wrong in feelin' something's shifted inside of him, finally let something go. Could even possibly be me he's finally finally finally beyond all doubt ready to let go 'n' it would be…."

"Molly."

Well it would be fine 'cause 7 weeks ago I remember tellin' myself, tellin' Libby 'n' all I was over him. No space in my life for him 'n' I stuck to it, except for those insomnia hours I have, between 2 'n' 4 when I'd lie there, looking at Tony sleeping and have that awful feelin' I was making a huge mistake - for him and I. But during daylight hours I'd known I'd made the right decision. Never had I thought I'd made the wrong decision for Charles.

"Molly. Are we walking to the shops?"

"No, where….." Looking around me I realise I've taken him the complete opposite direction. The country lane we're heading down is becoming more overgrown with trees as it leads to god knows where instead of heading into the village. I consider asking him if he would follow me, see where we ended up together but he's started to walk backwards, a bemused smile on his face.

"The cars this way."

I'm halfway into the car when he switches on the ignition, the smooth hum of the car being followed immediately by the sound of classical music. There's something so right, relaxed about the way he grins at me. For a minute I think he's even gonna' help me with my seatbelt. "See you still listen to crap music."

The smile is wiped off his face to be replaced with mock outrage. "See you've still not mastered the ability to get into a bloody car."

"Oi, that's dressist, it ain't my fault."

"Dressist is that even a word."

"Yeah I've just made it up. I love this dress, weren't gonna' get it covered in manky car stuff was I? Meant I couldn't climb in with my usual agility. What?" God knows why he's laughing, it's not as if there were one word of exaggeration in that. "What?"

"Nothing." He's trapped his lip between his teeth, cheekily eyeballin' me. I try to give him as good as he's giving me but I'm feeling a bit sad 'cause I've missed him 'n' all this chat so much. Reading the emotions on my face, accepting it he checks his mirror 'n' then I freeze, close my eyes and take a deep breath 'cause I know what's happening next.

He's gonna' reverse out.

I'd forgotten 'bout this. For some reason it never made the thousands of fantasies I've had about him over the last year. I don't want to see his face, smiling as his arm goes behind the headrest of my seat 'n' accidentally on purpose touches my shoulder. In previous journey's one touch would have me leaning across the centre console 'n' placing my hand on his thigh. Then, once he'd made sure he wasn't gonna' run over any bleedin' sheep he'd put his hand around mine, squeeze 'n' if I was really lucky I'd watch my fingers, always feminine in his large palms, lift to his mouth. 'Course nothing happens today; he just looks at me, confused at my reaction.

He raises one eyebrow, flitting from watching the road and looking at me, his sigh is resigned. "We need to talk…" The words no girl wants to hear. Especially when she's made a monumentally stupid mistake of givin' up on her one true love 3 months before he comes waltzing back into her life. I think I might be sick. "Or… we don't need to talk. It's up to you."

I look down at my hands, dry skinned 'n' needing a shit load of moisturiser with nails chipped through one exercise too many. "Let's get the next few hours over with first shall we?"

-og-

We stand together. Surprised by the choice before us in the rows of Champagne. Well I was once I'd sampled a few of the gins they had for tasting. I can blame his mum 'n' her secret gin supply. It's given me a lovely buzz. The bloke behind the counter is gettin' fed up of us, every so often looking at his newspaper like it's a crime we're keeping him back from reading the sports pages. I take one final look along the offered choice. Tipping my head towards his when he asks:

"What one do you think?"

"I dunno' I didn't think there would be this amount of choice."

"Can you remember the colour of the label. We can do a process of elimination from that."

"I never really took enough notice to be honest. Mind you I think it was possibly yellow like…that one. Yeah, I'm sure it's that one."

"Can I have a bottle of.."

I need to lean forward onto the counter to get close enough to read the label, though they must have the price wrong 'cause surely it can't be that expensive. "Taittinger and make it three." The bloke lifts two bottles at the same time and is turning around for a third.

Charles doesn't even look, too busy getting his wallet out of his pocket. "I really don't think that's a good idea Dawes."

Comically Mr Sports Pages pauses, a bottle in his hand and looks between the pair of us.

"I'll pay you back." My mouth is watering at the thought of bubbles to get me through the next few hours.

"That's not the point." Unbeknown to him, Mr Offy has accepted my nodding 'n' is now scanning the bottles then wrapping them up in paper.

"That'll be two hundred and fifty eight pounds please."

"Or maybe it is…."

The nudge I give Charles makes him wince, possibly it was slightly harder than what I meant. He ain't that pissed off 'cause his hand snakes around my waist 'n' pulls me into him. It leaves him one hand free to type in his number. "Can I get some cigarettes too 'n' a lighter and maybe a bottle of that gin seein' as we're here."

"No."

"You are such a bleedin' cheapskate."

"Forgive me for not wanting to be part of your endeavour to destroy your lungs….What the fuck are you doing."

"Seein' where my money is. It's been stolen or something, but I'm sure I distinctly remember puttin' it in this morning."

Gentlemanly he angles his body so the peeping tom of a sales person can't ogle me. "Molly you're fucking fondling yourself. Stop it." There's a hint of frustration in his voice.

"Well I ain't got my purse so I put two monkeys down my bra for emergencies 'n' this is an emergency. I need fags 'n' a drink." This dress is shit, they should have designed it with a pocket or something. Or more sensibly I should have remembered what tit I'd put my money in.

He's still staring at my boobs, I shouldn't have been surprised I'd learned on a beach a long time ago he was a bit partial to them. "I'll buy the champagne, call it a wedding gift. Do you need some money for later? I could get cashback if you wanted. But not to buy fags let's make that perfectly clear."

"I've got my purse it's just not on me. Tony's got it." I have another successfully mute conversation with my favourite ever newspaper reader 'n' I grin at him as he puts through my Lambert & Oh shit.

"Ahh I see." There's a beat of a pause. Enough time for me to stare unblinkingly at the counter and wish the words hadn't come out of my gob. I hope he doesn't think to ask, isn't interested enough in my life, concentrating too much on the keypad to put his code…. "Who's Tony?"

The words are painful to say but I can't lie to him. "My boyfriend." I offer uncertainly.

"Okay." He's controlled, if there's any negative reaction he's hiding it well.

"Sorry your pin number is incorrect. Do you want to try again Sir?"

He takes a breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he does so 'n' then tries again. This time it works. Apparently he's fine with my news, taking the bag off the counter 'n' even handing me the cigarettes and lighter. Striding ahead of me he's nearly out the door before he turns and flicks his head, some old habits never die. "Let's get a move on shall we? Don't want to ruin anybody's day."

Meekly I follow him. Inside I'm screaming at him.

"Do you know….?" He comes to an abrupt halt, looking over my head at something in the distance. "I need to make a call. Wait for me in the car." There's the sound of the central locking system opening. Just as I put my hand out to grab the handle there's the the noise of it closing again as if by habit he's walked away 'n' pressed it. I try it but it doesn't budge and when I look up he's already a good distance away. His phone in his hand, watching the screen or scrolling for a number 'n' just as I think I'll give it a go at shouting for him he puts it to his ear.

As the traffic rumbles past on the busy street I stand hovering beside the car, unsure what to do. The carrier bag is placed on the bonnet of the car, tempting me to open a bloody bottle here 'n' now. Every so often I keep checking on him. He's sitting down now on a low stone wall, one hand massaging the back of his neck as he speaks to someone. This could take a while. I pull myself up onto the bonnet, sod the bloody dress and ignore the strange looks of folk walking past. Moving the carrier bag between my knees I take a bottle of champagne out. It only takes me a few attempts to ease the cork off, glad I don't ruin my dress as a pathetic amount of froth comes out the top - I miss Libby 'cause she'd make some rude comment if I'd said that out loud.

The annoyance I feel is unreal. I want to scream. Pissed off with myself about how I handled it all, bleedin' wanting to kick myself. With hindsight I should have tried to explain myself, in the car would have been a good place; somewhere he couldn't do a bolt.

I'm not aware he's back until he pulls himself up beside me, takes the half empty bottle out of my hand and has one swig before passing it back. "Do you love him?"

"I've told him I do."

"You said you loved me?"

"But you…."

"Sorry. I know what I did. I know why you've met someone else I'm only pointing out you loved me when you told me you loved me. So I'm guessing you love him too."

"Yes but….."

He interrupts. "Mum says hello."

Defeated, possibly a little bit out of my face now I've had a bottle 'n' a half of champagne on an empty stomach since 11am and it's only 2.30 I give up trying to explain any of this to him. "Is that who you were talkin' to?" I light up another cigarette careful to blow in the opposite direction.

"Yup."

"She must hate me."

"Why?"

"Cause I tried to move on. Met someone else. I never told her."

"I wasn't sure if you had spoken to her about it or not until I asked her there. She doesn't tell me anything about you. I'm never allowed to be part of that conversation." He pauses long enough for me to finish my fag and turn and look at him. He's lit up a cigarette too, though it's sittin' in his hand burning away by itself. "Look Molly, I'm not annoyed with you or angry I was shocked, hadn't expected it that's all."

"I didn't think you'd ever come back to me, you just disappeared as if you didn't care."

He takes one draw, promptly throwing the cigarette to the pavement. "Why didn't I even contemplate you would have moved on?" We fall into silence, it's awkward. "Why isn't he here with you today?"

This has to be the worst conversation I've had in my entire life 'n' that's saying something. "He is but he's the photographer."

Charles laughs, but it's short, brief and devoid of any humour. "I'm sure he'll be missing you then."

"You're not gonna' run out on me again are you?"

"No probably not but, well, it makes everything a bit more complicated doesn't it?" Lithely he jumps down and turns towards me, his smile is brave, a pretence he's alright. "We'd better get you back. Your not mine to keep."

I don't want to go but I can't say it. I try. The words stick in my throat. Fear constricting my gullet so the words can't make their way out. I couldn't be rejected a third time. It would end all hope. He extends his hand towards me, at the final moment gripping me by my waist and lifting me from the bonnet of the car, placing me carefully on the pavement. We stay like that, neither of us move an inch, the Officer and the Bridesmaid then he lets me go. He's halfway in the car when he turns and sees me, standing frozen, on my side of the car.

"What does Toby open car doors for you?" It's the first hint he's really not happy with the situation a sneer to the question he's now trying to hide with a false smile as he walks round to the car door and opens it for me. I don't even correct him on the name. He can call him whatever he bloody wants.

"He's got a motorbike." I offer, thinking it's a bit funny but he only raises his eyes in apparent disgust 'n' starts to shut the door.

"Charles." I'm too late or he chooses not to hear me, instead I have to wait until he comes round to his side and climbs in. He doesn't look at me once, turning the music up even louder than before. "You will still dance with me later, wont you?"

There's no immediate answer, the car being started first and after he stalls once he successfully moves forward into a space in the traffic then he looks at me briefly returning to stare straight ahead as he asks. "What will you not be dancing with Toby?" I choose not to answer him, annoyed at him. Instead looking out the window, I hear his sigh first 'n' when I look at him he's got the look of a kid asking for his ball back. "Do you still want me to?"

"Of course I do, more than anything in this world."

 **I'm sorry for those who wanted them to fall into each other's arms and completely understand how disappointed you'll be with yet more of them trying to work it all out around their feelings and insecurities but it is a story and hopefully you won't be disappointed with the ending! It won't be long I promise :)**

 **Your reviews and support have been amazing thank you xx**


	21. Rather Be

There's the usual atmosphere in the large hotel dining room after a wedding meal. Too much alcohol consumed and the lingering sense of relief the speeches have finally started. A night of more drinking 'n' dancing tantalising ahead. Serving staff are still mingling around the tables, collecting an odd plate here 'n' there and topping up the bottles of wine on the tables. A double vodka 'n' coke is nursing me, the liquid going down too fast for my liking and I'm wondering whether I should catch the eye of someone, order another. Anything to not have to sit through all the speeches with nothing to take my attention of looking at him. "And of course I'd like to thank our beautiful bridesmaid Molly, who I'm sure you all agree looks gorgeous tonight." Pausing, waiting for the clapping 'n' table banging 'n' even mortifyingly catcalls from some seriously pissed guests to stop, Smurf plays the room. A chip of the old block he is; and I can say that after seein' his mum in the church. I look at Tony, 'cause it's the safest option. He's grinning at me, like he's the luckiest bloke in the room. Which is a shame, 'cause I'm wondering if I'll ever feel anything for him like what I feel for Charles.

The clearing of Smurf's throat brings my attention back to him, catching him looking at me out the corner of his eye before he smirks 'n confidently looks out to his guests. "What you probably all don't know is she even once saved my life. And….." His hand to goes up to quieten the room, it's more misplaced aahhh's from the female guests, interspersed with a few shouts of 'she shouldn't have bothered mate' which sound suspiciously Mancunian. "...And." He lowers his voice, everyone's attention back on him. "And…. well we won't mention the back of the Indian Take-away in Pirbright will we Molls?" He ends up shouting, grinning, the noise raucous. "She is of course now my best mate."

I fucking hate Smurf. But I smile, raise my glass to him.

"You've slept with him?" The words are spat in my ear from my boyfriend. Boy being the important part of that statement.

Taking a gulp of my drink I let this car crash of a wedding sink in. Contemplating whether I even care if Tony's put out. I don't think I do. If my Commanding Officer hadn't seen a problem with it when I was trapped in a FOB with a platoon's safety in the balance I can't see why I should be worrying about Tony. "It was years ago. I was pissed on a night out from basic." I turn towards him, smiling like an assassin. "Anyway you tellin' me you ain't ever slept with someone you regret before?"

"Yes but if they were in this room then I'd have told you."

I'm bored. "Well I didn't tell you so deal with it." Automatically my eyes search for Charles, in vain though 'cause he's staring at Smurf; a calculating look on his face. He's not looked at me once tonight. I want him to. I need him too.

"And I think you should start drinking water." Tony's places his hand on my shoulder, heavy, constricting like his voice in my ear as he tries to whisper above the noise of laughter at another witty speech. Stretching over for a glass of water, mainly 'cause it's the furthest away rather than it being the sensible option, I take a sip. My stomach heaves at the distinct smell of cleaning fluid I can smell from the glass, as if my senses are heightened. I push past it, the last thing I need is to end the night before I've sorted something with Charles. Lifting my shoulder to discourage Tony from putting his hand back from where I'd dislodged it; I smile. It's forced 'cause I'm in living hell 'n' I'm not sure my stomach is appreciating the numerous double vodka and cokes I've sunk whilst everyone else ate their dinner. The water I've drank travels uncomfortably down my throat, the liquid heavy 'n' it almost doesn't make it. Covering my hand I burp, apologetically smiling at Tony who shakes his head. "Told you to pace yourself."

"Yeah well." I lean over to him, trying to see if movement will help the sick motion that's going on in my gut. "I don't have that hindsight shit stuff that you obviously have or believe you mate I wouldn't be in this position." Checking my watch I see it's only 5pm, or seventeen hundred hours as I say it in my head in the voice of _him_.

"I would think it would be obvious getting drunk before the wedding and then being an arse about drinking during the meal would increase the chances of you passing out."

My head is starting to pound, a sharp rhythmical pain making it hard for me to think, focus. Picking up my previously abandoned bread roll I break a corner off. Immediately regretting putting it in my mouth, a surge of moisture making it's way into my dry gob and I feel the first dangerous haul of unsettledness in my belly. "Fuck." I throw it down, not caring where it lands pushing my chair back only marginally aware Tony has to catch it to stop it from falling.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." The words he chooses to offer me support.

I've still got a bit of self respect. Trying to make my way to the toilets composed as possible threading my way through the tables, avoiding where _he's_ sitting. Opening the large double doors out into the lobby I feel a reprieve for a second at the cooler air 'n' then there's another painful cramping in my stomach and I have to rush, hand over my mouth.

There's the relief of making it in time. The abandonment of pride in finding myself on my knees in a thankfully fairly hygienic bog. For a few seconds I feel better, the pain still throbbing in my nut but my stomach better. I'm not gonna' move knowing 'n' even not caring my body ain't finished. I lean my head against the partition, pressing my forehead into the cool laminate 'n' wish I was at home. My eyes heavy with self pity.

"Here." I open my eyes in surprise not having heard anyone approaching. Warily watching him kneeling down 'n' looking at me - worried rather than a look of disappointment. "Use this." In his hand is damp paper towels. I must stare at them for too long because his tone changes. "Molly." My hand's shaking, doing as he says and taking the makeshift cloth off him. Another wave hits me, this one more violent, even being so close I almost don't make it in time, only just aware of the reassuring hand on my back, words spoken somewhere above my head. "I'll get you some water."

Alone, I listen to the dull beat of music that has started up. My hopes getting up each time the door opens, letting in the lyrics of the song, hurting my head even more. Disappointment when another cubicle is opened, a toilet flushing, water running and the sound of a hand drier and then I'm left in silence again. I start to think that he's not gonna' come back. Not blaming him but feelin' gutted. Resting my eyes, the need to sleep becoming instinctive. This time the blare of dance music, voices from outside, followed by hard soled boots striding across the tiled floor. I look up apologetically as he comes in. Trying to smile as he kneels down beside me and hands me the cold glass of water. I don't drink it rather putting it up to my forehead.

"Sorry I took so long. Had to utilise my stealth training to get in without any females reporting me." His eyes flick over my body, not in a lustful way more appraising what he can do to help. When he looks back at me there's nothing other than detached kindness in his eyes. "I told Tony you weren't well. I'm sure he'll be here soon, had to take some bloody photographs or something." A tick in his jaw starts for a minute 'n' then realising I'm watching him he smiles, reassuring.

Sighing I close my eyes. "I ain't flavour of the month." I'm not wanting to deal with anything in this moment, especially if it takes Charles away from me.

I feel a tendril of hair, one which has miraculously avoided my projective vomiting, being smoothed behind my ear. Leaning into the palm of his hand makes me automatically feel better but then he removes it and when I open one eye he's looking uncomfortable, staring down at his hands clenched together.

"You don't have to stay you know." He looks up at me in surprise. "There ain't exactly enough room to swing a cat in here."

His head is tipped to the side, something flickers across his face. "I spent two years in cramped conditions, believe you me this is luxury."

"Is it?"

"It's even got a toilet. Talking of which." Standing up, he unbuttons his jacket shrugging it off to reveal a white t-shirt, there's muscle definition that wasn't there the last time I saw him. A sign he's grown stronger. "If you're going to insist on talking to Huey all night kneel on this, save your dress and it might stop you from catching something. It's not exactly hygienic for you."

"Can't remember you givin' a shit when you put me on latrine clean Boss."

I do as he says, enjoying the feeling of the heat of his body as I lean against him in the tight space, feeling his arms staying around me as my body decides yet again to try 'n' get rid of everything in my life I've ever ate. "Christ your medals are sticking into my fucking knees."

"You are actually quite high maintenance, do you know that?"

"You still love me though." I watch him as he slides down the cubicle, settling his long legs on either side of me before drawing them up and resting his chin on his knees. "Thanks."

He looks confused "What for?" His face tightens in pain. Why I don't know then he smiles sadly, uncertainly. "I thought you might of asked me to piss off. Not intrude on your privacy."

I laugh, ignoring the pain in my body at the muscles I have to use. "If you'd ever come to my house met my family you'd realise how funny that is? I don't think I've ever had privacy in my entire life."

"I never got privacy. Not for anything, not for beatings or ….." We both go silent as someone enters the bathroom. I'm ready to put my finger up to my mouth to shoosh Charles if I hear Tony shouting my name, but it's high heeled footsteps. Obviously looking for someone and not finding them, the door banging shut on their way out leaving us in silence again. The fear that was on his face, eases slightly and he watches me, a bead of sweat sitting on top of his upper lip. He's nervous. "... or when they tortured me."

"Shit Charles." I place my hands on his knees, parting his legs until there's space for me to fit. Wrapping my arms around him and placing my head against his chest. His heart is loud; frantic. I want to tell him it's alright. But I know it ain't so I stay quiet never releasing the pressure of my hold.

He takes a shuddery sigh. His breath rippling against my hair 'n' then I feel the pressure of his lips, pressed into my skin, moments of silence passing. "I gave up Molly." I kiss his chest, my nose inhaling the scent of him and I fight against the tears that are springing into my eyes. "At first you put up a fight. It's only pain, it goes. But then you find you're living in constant pain. And you know they're going to inflict pain on top of the pain and then one day you have to give in. You let them see that they've won, you cry, beg, plead for them to stop and you hope that it's going to be over. Because they've broken you." He's shaking, I want to tell him to stop, hating the tears I can feel falling onto my hair. "Then they go for you emotionally. Strip you down, question your soul. Why was I fighting, why did I think I was doing it for the greater good. And you believe you're weak, selfish, not fit to be on this earth." His arms crush me to him. "And you shout at them all of that, because you agree with them now and you know that they've broken you physically, emotionally. There isn't anything else left." He tenses, hearing the door opening again, the faraway music not hiding the sound of footsteps, this time unmistakably male.

"Molly?"

Charles releases me, pushing himself up from his sitting position. I follow; not sure of how much time we have. If Tony sees us, finds us, Charles is gonna' shut down and when I look at him all I can see is confusion on his face, his hand working its way through his curls, indecision crossing his beautiful features as he works out what to do.

"Molly?"

Listening, there's the sound of Tony making his way along, a pause at each cubicle meaning he's checking each one possibly looking under the door for feet. "Charles" I whisper, hoping there's enough background noise. He looks down at me, his eyes following mine as I motion with my head to tell him to sit on the toilet, pulling the seat down and once he's sitting I curl up in his lap and wait for him to lift his legs up. Hopefully Tony will think this toilet is out of order, 'cause I don't think I could cope if he tries to open the lock.

I'm relieved when I hear the main door open, this time the sound of heels. I tip my chin up to look at Charles, giving him a reassuring smile, but it's not reciprocated.

"Sorry looking for my girlfriend. She wasn't very well." Whoever he's spoken to obviously doesn't care. A toilet cubicle door slamming shut and Tony must decide to give in; look for me elsewhere. Even after the door closes we sit still and wait. Making sure he's not trying to trick us. The place is empty again before we speak. Him first.

"Christ Dawes, you are a fucking ton weight."

It would be funny if his face wasn't still damp from the tears shed, if he didn't still have the haunted look of a man trying to get back some control. "Well I eat when I'm unhappy so blame yourself."

"Point taken." He watches me, reading me, trying to grin.

Still feelin' like shit I sit down on his jacket. Playing with the braid on the rough fabric. "They didn't win though. You've won. 'Cause they ain't changed you."

He hunkers down. "Who do you care about most in the world." His voice is soft, sad, his thumb strokes my cheek.

"You." I whisper, not daring to look at him.

The noise coming from him isn't a laugh, it's a painful sound, his hand retreats 'n' I feel bereft. "Once they've broken you as much as you think it's possible to be broken. Do you know what they do?"

"No."

"They go for the ones you love, that's what they do. Convince you their not safe, they can get to them too and they'll do exactly to them what they've done to you and you're back to begging, pleading because you've lost all control in the world, you don't even know how long you've been there or what time of day it is so you believe them. You find that last vestige of strength to try and fight for the ones you love. The innocents. But you fail."

"They never got to them though. They were safe."

"Were they?" It's rhetorical so I don't answer; waiting. "They'd got to Sam, he'd lost his innocence with life. His father taken, talked about on television, newspaper articles written and no one able to give answers. That shouldn't happen to a child, they should be secure. Not having malicious rumours told to them in the playground. Rebecca said that some kids would tell him that I was dead. He'd come home in tears and not believe her that nobody knew, shout at her that everyone was lying to him. Until we heard differently she'd told him, we had to believe I was still alive. 'My daddy probably wishes he was dead though Mummy.' Was what he once said to her. Christ he was 9 Molly. That's not right. And you….." He shakes his head, his tongue in the side of his mouth, he can't look at me. "I forgot who I was. I came home and I didn't have a fucking clue who Charles James was. They all knew who I was, how I should behave. You'd see the looks passed between them if I said something out of character. I knew I always got up early because mum would pop her head round the door at 8.30, at first I thought she was checking on me that I hadn't done anything stupid then one day I did get up and I could see the relief on her face. I knew that I enjoyed talking to my dad about politics, had debated with him because there was always disappointment on his face if I shrugged my shoulders, 'cause christ I couldn't give a shit about any of it now but I pretended. Rebecca well, I learned that it was all about Sam and if I was tired, struggling I needed to find the energy because if not I'd let her down and I think the old me wouldn't have let my son down for any of those reasons.…." He takes a deep breath, still not sitting on the floor because he's too tense. "Then I saw you and well I was drawn to you; needed you. Tried not to of course. It would be easier to shut myself off, look after Sam but I could never get you out of my mind. Didn't care I was starting something with you when I was so badly damaged, I just never saw anything other than a selfish need to be with someone. Then you changed everything. You were you, you made me laugh, you made me remember what it was like as a man to want someone and to have that company only you can bring. I remembered who I used to be. But I didn't want you to get too close to everything that was going on underneath, wanted to protect you. You and Sam. If they hadn't got to you then I certainly wasn't going to."

I put my hand out, entwining our fingers but it's futile, his hand is limp even with my uttered reassurance. "They didn't get to me."

"You know it's a lie." He replies immediately, removing his hand to safety. "I watched you one night, having a nightmare. Your face was all screwed up and you kept saying my name, over and over and over. It broke my heart. They'd been right they had got to you. And I wasn't the person to help you. You were the person to help me but that was selfish and you didn't deserve that." He shifts uncomfortable, the cold floor taking it's toll on both of us. "Shit I'm sorry for telling you all of this. I'd psyched myself up for telling you all this. I thought today you'd be….."

"I'd be what?"

Whatever he was gonna' say is gone, he smiles apologetically, sinking back to the floor. "For five minutes can you hold me? That's all I ask."

"Of course." I'm beside him in seconds. Our arms coiled round each other. Heartbeats gradually decreasing as we take comfort from each other. I think we're longer possibly heading towards the 20 minutes. I'd stay like this forever. Resisting his attempts to release me when he decides our time is up, his hands pushing at my shoulders to get me to release him. Once he's standing he helps me up, bending down to pick up his jacket. I want to ask what now, push him to take me back into his life. But I don't, I still have the memory of how painful it is to be rejected. "I can smell bleedin' vomit in my hair."

He smiles, an attempt at a laugh then he looks at me, working out what he's gonna' say before he does. "I've a room here, if you wanted you could get a shower, a bit of kip."

"Would you stay with me?"

Unlocking the toilet door he turns, staring at me. I ain't got a bleedin' clue what he's thinking. "If you want me to." He takes a few steps and abruptly stops. Again his face has an expression I can't work out. "Do you know what I said to you when you were walking up the aisle?"

"No." I think, trying to remember. The memory is tinged with too much adrenalin and nerves. "What was it?"

"It doesn't matter. It was just something stupid that might have meant something to you."

"Really?"

Nodding, persuading himself of something he rubs his thumbs under my eyelids. I presume removing the mascara which no doubt is making it's way down my face before we head outside. His fingers pause and stay there, my face secure in his hold. "I'd better tell Tony where you are. I'll give you the card and you can make your way up, I'll be there as soon as possible." He watches my reaction, a calming in his eyes as I raise my eyes.

"Yeah but tell him I'm out for the count, drooling or still being sick won't you."

Releasing me he takes a step back. "Seeing as it's you." And then he leaves me.

-og-

I open the door on the third attempt, leave the card on the table beside the door 'n' walking into his space. Disappointed though, 'cause there's not enough of him in it. Unsurprising really seeing as it's only a hotel bedroom. There's only his bag abandoned on the bed. Hinting on no time being spent in here before he rushed somewhere. Going over I move the bag aside, picking up the bouquet of flowers, they're breathtaking. The most beautiful bunch I've ever seen in my life. I sit down on the bed, holding them. Waiting for him.

 **I'm sure you're fed up reading my thanks at the end of every chapter. So I'd like to express my extreme gratitude for you all remaining with this. I didn't want to go into too much detail about what had happened because a - I have no experience and also there is a fine line between an enjoyable read and one which is too painful and I'm hoping I've not crossed it. I know it's not been easy and I've tested your patience a fair few times but hopefully, keeping everything crossed it might just be worth it.**


	22. Time After Time

I jump at the click of the door. The noise loud when it interrupts my thoughts of nothing in general. Alright actually I'm imagining we're here together and I was waiting on him coming back to spend the rest of the night with me; the foreseeable future if I could get away with it. A daydream tantalisingly out of reach. There's almost a feelin' of guilt now, sittin' in his space, the flowers he's got for some lucky cow still in my hands. I'd thought he'd be longer. Wouldn't have to face reality until I'd worked out the exact details of our future life together.

He has an air of being relaxed, well if you don't look to closely. Ignore the air of unease. If you study him, like what I'm doing; then you notice the tell tale signs. The hollow in his cheeks from his teeth being clenched together; his hand tuggin' at the hairs on the back of his neck whilst his other is rammed in his pocket 'n' the shifty way he's looking at me out the side of his eye. "He says he won't be long."

Shit. I'm reminded of the old sand timer I used to play with at my Nan's; fascinated each time I turned it as if I was controlling time. Now I've got the feelin' of time running out. Putting the flowers down beside me. I'm not ready for him to let me go again. "Look Charles…..."

"You should get a shower." Interrupting he smiles kindly, appeasing. 'Cause he's good at that. I've seen him doin' it loads. Gettin' upset about a few Afghan girls not allowed to go to school - smile make her feel better. Have a bunch of blokes take the piss 'cause they've decided it's the only female in the FOBs time of the month - smile at her, bollock the lads then make sure whatever you're doin' means she's close 'n' you can keep an eye on her and smile at her if need be. It's always worked, until now - this time it's not.

"I don't want you to leave me behind again."

"What?" He asks surprised, his hand pausing in mid-air.

I'm not too sure what I meant or can't put it into words more like; surprised I've even said it out loud but it makes sense in my nut. It's a feelin' I've always had with him. Like even when he'd got taken; he'd left me behind and when he'd decided he couldn't give me what I needed he'd left me behind. I don't want it to happen again. There's a part of my heart which ain't strong. Not able to cope with rejection, feelin' the words to explain what I mean sittin' in my gullet doing nothing but taunting me. I stall; resort to the mundane. "Nice flowers. Someone's gonna' be happy."

"They're for my mum." He clears his throat, looking at the flowers abandoned beside me, the tick in his jaw regular.

I pick them up 'n' smell them again, the freshness of them evoking thoughts of… I suppose… well flower shops. "Jude's gonna' be delighted with these. If I brought these home to my mum she'd ask me where I'd nicked them from."

He takes them off me, long fingers toying with the elegant green leaves. With the disorientated expression on his face, his rounded shoulders as if it's too much energy to stand straight he's back to looking like a lost kid. One who could really do with a cuddle from his mum. It's sweet 'n' for a minute I think of him as the Officer who got a bleedin' paddling pool sent over to him.

Surprised he looks down at me. "What on earth are you laughing about?"

"I dunno' just a bit of a mummies boy ain't you."

"Piss off Dawesy." A smile tugs at the side of his mouth, throwing the bouquet down on the bin with a hint of disgust before basking me in his attention again. Strangle place to store them but I don't comment, still giggling at him and his love for his mum.

"Serious brownie points with them though, you broken her best china or something?"

"No."

"Forgot her birthday?"

"No of…." The bed dips under his weight. Sitting down beside me and resting his elbows on his knees, a smile on his face. I've got a feelin' of deja vu. Looking nervously towards the wardrobe. "Of course not. If you must know I was meant to bring something back, I've not managed."

"That's a bit shit."

A whoosh of air is expelled from his lungs, his focus zeroing on the door, waiting to see if someone knocks. There's only one person we're expecting. Tony. I stand up, awkward. Not wanting history to repeat itself with an interruption. I need space to work out what to do next. He copies me, both of us standing; awkward."Right well, you're right I'd better get a shower. Don't suppose sick in your hair is ever gonna' become a fashion accessory."

"No I suppose not." Exhaling a laugh his hand extends towards me before he thinks better of it and returns it to his pockets. "I'll go and see if I can get you a hairdryer."

"Thanks." Watching him walking across the room. Smiling at him when he turns at the last minute, his hand on the door handle. His head nods once towards me 'n' then he's gone.

I'm not surprised when I come out clean 'n' nearly ready to talk, beg, and Tony's sittin' there all relaxed with his precious camera sitting at his feet. It's in direct contrast to Charles; leaning against the wall arms wrapped tightly around himself. I suppose there's no shock, no epiphany Charles 'n' I ain't got the emotional strength to be bold enough to do anything other than stare at each other, blocking the sound of Tony's droning voice giving us an update on meaningless snippets from the party going on downstairs. Sentence after sentence until a silence takes over the room, confused I frown at Charles, unsure why the voice speaking for the last few minutes has stopped. He looks as bewildered as me, his face folding into confusion.

Tony clears his throat, I'm expecting when I manage to tear my gaze away he'll be suspicious but his face is clear, focussing on his watch. "We'd better get back Molly. I think you promised me a dance." I didn't. Opening my mouth to argue the point then snapping it shut and instead going 'n' finding my bag, taking the chance of Tony heading out into the corridor first leaving Charles holding the door open as I loiter behind to look at him apologetically, to explain the only person I want to ever dance with in life is him. But I know that's not going to happen.

"I can't explain it, not clever enough." Raising my shoulders to get my point across I hush his attempts to interrupt. To tell me I am 'cause it doesn't matter. Sitting my hand on his arm, feeling the heat coursing through me at our connection, silencing him. I don't want to let go. "But it's as if I've loved for too long with little or no hope. I don't have the belief I'm worth loving like I once thought I maybe deserved." I'm glad I'm short, my head dipping towards the ground whilst I try to get over the huge wave of self pity. "Anyway there's safety stayin' in the normal ain't there?" Turning towards the sound of footsteps, knowing any minute Tony is gonna' come round the corner wondering what's taking me so long I stand on my tip toes and place a kiss against the soft skin of Charles' cheek, his head lowering to make it easier for me. "Take care of yourself and tell Judy I'm asking for her." I somehow know this is gonna' be it.

-og-

I'm still on my first tap water. The glass tacky in my hand as if this late in the night they can't be bothered washing them properly. Everyone around me is having fun, a lovely atmosphere to my friends wedding but I ain't partaking in it. Goin' back to studying my drink.

"You said you would dance with me." Looking around me, working out who spoke and whether it was the voice I want it to be I finally find him standing at the bottom of the table. There's worry, uncertainty even a tiny bit of defiance all rolled up in the dark brown eyes watching me. Extending his hand towards me, an imperceptible tremor to it. He tips his head to the side, a silent plea for me to accept when he's uncomfortably made himself the centre of attention. Everyone on the table looking up at him. My heart's hammering as I push my chair back, squeeze my way through the tightly packed bodies around the dance floor and reach him. I don't look at Tony once.

I watch as his hand envelopes mine, somehow always making it look small, feminine in his elegant fingers. Where it should be. "Seein' as it's you." All he does is exhale a laugh down his nose, keeping his gaze on me for a few beats of the song playing. Then he turns, still watching me, checking I'm gonna' follow and makes his way through the sweaty drunk bodies. His timing is right. The song playing finishing, a few seconds of beatless laughter and rabble of talk from around us and then the slow rhythm of the next song starts. "Sad songs for the over 30's." I giggle; nerves. In slow motion watching him closing the inches between us, placing his hand on my lower back and pulling me into him. There's something about the old Bossman, an impression of confidence. The memory of the basic movements of dancing coming back to him. Placing my hand on his chest his heart gives him away; the beat of it wild under my fingers. When I look up, ready to give him a reassuring smile he's watching me, eyes hooded and then smiles as if it's an afterthought.

"I'll take offence at that Dawes. You calling me old?"

"No." His arm hooks fully round me, I'm completely pressed against his body, a crick in my neck from looking up at him.

"Maybe you should try not laughing then."

But he's laughing too, or smiling with intent. A glint of light in his eyes. His hips starting to guide us around the small space we've bagged on the sticky floor. I have this sensation, not only in the pit of my stomach where my body normally displays it's physical reaction to him but the bubble of emotion is tightening my spine, my whole body a delicious bundle of tense nerves. Well apart from my nut. The battle of preparing myself for a final goodbye fighting against the hope something will happen 'n' he won't leave me again. "If this is gonna' be us." I pause as he brings his ear down towards my mouth, difficulty making myself heard above the noise. "I think we should have some fun."

"LIke this." My head finds it's way into the crook of his neck, my cheek against the warmth of his skin as my legs automatically wrap around his waist at being hoisted. I'm cruelly pulled away from where I found comfort but the motion of being dipped, swung until I'm back eye to eye level with him has me beaming like a kid. My fingers toying with the curls at the base of his neck.

"Yeah like that."

We slow again, find the mellow pulse for him to move us too, our bodies moving as one. "I know I should think of something original but you really are beautiful."

"What even with no makeup on?"

He looks confused, as if the question surprises him. "Of course. I feel in love with you. Was scarily attracted to the bare faced gorgeous girl who liked to give me cheek everyday."

"Not everyday mate. Over exaggeration ain't a nice quality to have."

"Fuck off Dawes, you know it was every bloody day." His words rumble in my ear, whether he means it or not his teeth tug at my earlobe. I have to bit my lip to stop a groan. If possible my body pushes even further into him, not just the act of sex which has my soul craving him.

My voice is breathless when I speak. "Was it? Can't quite remember that."

He supports me, a contradiction to the hand which is tugging at my leg to get me to release the grip I have. Carefully placing me back on my feet, my equilibrium all wrong as I miss the heat of his body. "Sorry your boyfriend is giving me the evils." Charles stretches my arm out, holding my hand away in a hold like what you see on the telly, his other hand putting pressure on my hip creating a space between us; not looking at me.

"How's Sam?"

The question makes him meet my gaze, his face a picture of thought as he thinks of what to say. "He's good." I think that's gonna' be it, his voice soft when he does elaborate. "You were right. With what you said. I don't need to be about him all the time for him to happy, for us to have a good relationship."

"He's a good kid."

I'm pulled back into him, both of his hands going around my waist, resting his chin on the top of my head. I know the songs going to end soon and I'm dreading it. Wishing I could stop time. Live in this moment forever. "He asks about you sometimes. The girl with the stories."

"What do you tell him?"

"I lie. Tell him you're busy but you will come and see us one day. I don't admit … Shit."

Finding myself completely released I twist my head round in the direction Charles is staring, finding Tony standing behind me. He doesn't look happy. "The songs finished." My ears finally let my brain know that he's right. The song that starts now jauntier. I hate the upbeat rhythm to it. In my mind all I can see is the timer, the last few grains of sand starting to tauntingly drip through.

"I'll not be long, just…..." I don't know what I want to do, but I know I don't want to leave.

"It's fine. Go." Charles smiles at me kindly, as if he's doin' me a favour instead of ripping the tiny bit of hope that was still putting up a lonesome battle. I shrug, defeated. Walking with a heavy heart towards Tony, ignoring the outstretched hand he thrusts towards me in a sign of ownership, a grip which my hand has never looked right in.

"Molly."

The voice makes me stop but I don't turn. Looking at the floor waiting for him to say something else and desperately trying to avoid the complete look of confusion on Tony's face as he tries to piece together what's happening.

"In the Church. I said, I've come back to you." His voice is tight, strained, the sound of his throat being cleared in nerves. When I do spin, unable to do anything else but look at him he's staring at the ceiling, his tongue rolling around his mouth. Looking down at me apologetically. "The flowers were for you, I thought I could come back and sweep you off your feet. I didn't think….I'm sorry for letting you go."

"Don't say sorry."

Charles's eyes widen, then narrow trying to work out my answer. Someone else's hand grips onto my elbow, automatically I shrug and release it. There's only two people in this entire room as far as I'm concerned.

"You once said I need to fight for us." He takes a step towards me. His body language coming down to my level as he continues. "I'm fighting for us. I can't let you go again. Please give me another chance. I love you so much"

It's easy. "I will."

 **This is for those who aren't watching the tennis. Or like me are finding it far too nerve racking to watch it properly. Thank you for letting me know you are all still sticking with this - I am so grateful. The song at the end, the happier one which I'm sure will now become Molly's favourite song ever is Snow Patrols 'Just Say Yes.' Wouldn't we all :-D Hope this was worth the wait!**


	23. By Your Side

"What the fuck is going on?"

Shit. I'd forgotten about him. Try to forget about him again if I'm honest but when I look up to Charles his gaze flicks to behind my right shoulder before looking at me again. He swallows nervously dipping his head to try 'n' block him out of view, his actions confirming Tony is definitely still there. Sometimes it's crap being a grown up. "I'll get you upstairs okay." My hand reaches for his arm, the last thing I need is for him to get cold feet or something.

"Yup, if you still…."

"Of course." His hands are lifeless in his pockets. I don't think I've ever seen him so insecure 'n' I'd give anything to put my arm through his and leave this room together but it wouldn't be fair. "I'll be up as soon as I can." Charles nods once, freeing his hand and covering mine, a show of possession or possibly reassurance but I miss him as soon as he's gone, taking a deep breath 'n' turning round to face the confused voice from behind.

"Listen mate I'm sorry it's a long story 'n' well…."

Tony shakes his head, I hate it 'cause he looks hurt, 'n' for a minute I think he's holding back the tears but I don't have the pain in my gut I get when looking at Charles, don't have the need to make it all better for him. "You are coming home with me tonight aren't you?"

"No."

It's amazing how one conversation can ripple through a room, it's as if everyone has stopped, aware there's something going on. From my peripheral vision I can only see a few people dancing to the cheesy song. All eyes are on us.

"Fuck Molly, let me get this right." The hurt on Tony's face has been replaced with anger, his eyes almost popping out his head. He's making it easier for me 'cause the Tony I had feelings for isn't this resentful spitting man. "You left my bed this morning and you're jumping into someone else's tonight?"

"Well technically I stayed with Libby last night, but yeah I 'spose."

"But you've only just met him?"

I can feel myself blinking rapidly, remembering our conversation from earlier when I'd been deposited by Charles back at the church, his back ramrod straight, emotions switched off 'n' I'd really thought everything was over. Selfishly I'd realised as Tony had put his arm around me briefly I needed the contact, the stability of someone I didn't love enough to tear the world out from underneath my feet.

He'd spotted Charles, at first I hadn't realised, the nudge from Tony 'n' the nod towards someone catching me by surprise when I'd looked up into dark eyes. Charles had broken the contact quickly, looking down at the ground clenching his jaw. Now obviously I realise it was jealousy, in a way I'd had the power to rip everything he'd hoped for from under him. At the time I persuaded myself he didn't care. Insecurity tellin' me lies. 'Do you know him?' Tony had asked. 'Not very well' had been my answer. Shrugging my shoulders 'n' turning away. The conversation hadn't ended there though, Tony had filled me in on all the press articles he'd ever read about Charles. A cold sheen of sweat breaking out over me at the unemotional way he'd described everything. Easier, far easier to block out the words 'n' try to concentrate on not feelin' as if I was gonna' fall over with disappointment.

"He was my Commanding Officer in Afghan." My words barely reach my own ears, I'm surprised when they cross the divide between Tony and I, his face scrunching with confusion.

"I don't even know what that means?"

The roof of my gob is dry, I have to unstick my tongue to answer him. I'm aware apart from Smurf no one else knows our history, can know our history. "I served under him…."

"Obviously."

"Don't be so fuckin' crass." It's the first time I feel a bubble of anger starting. Not liking the way he's making me feel like some kind of slapper.

"You must have been busy out there, Smurf, your Commanding Officer, anyone else?"

A hand is placed on my shoulder, I deftly move out the way of it. The anger I'm feeling fuelling my steps closer to Tony. A small part of the old Molly Dawes has been released - the act now think later, curbed by years of crapness coming back to the fore. "He was my boss that we're all. Until he gave his fuckin' life up for me, made sure it was him who spent over 2 years in hell rather than me so forgive me if I have a certain amount of respect for him." There's moments passing as I out stare Tony. My heart beating erratically, a beat here with frustration followed by a quick beat at the memory of Charles coming back to me. The good feelings win 'n' I feel a smile building which I have to try and suppress.

"You should maybe take this conversation elsewhere Molls." Brains. The Liverpudlian, the sensible one of a platoon full of kids looks concerned as he flicks his eyes between us. Tony doesn't even listen to him, still staring at me.

"It's fine I ain't got nothing to hide." Brain's hands go up as if he's surrendering, taking a step back. Leaving me on my own with a circle of people around me pretending not to be interested. "I'm sorry Tony." I offer apologetically, wanting this to be over. To get upstairs to Charles and for Tony to get on with the rest of his life. "I was never good at talkin' about it, seemed easier sometimes to pretend none of it had happened."

My attempts at calming the situation don't work. Tony still sneering down at me. "So when did you meet him again? This morning or were you seeing us both at the same time."

"No. We met when he was released, spent some time together. I fell in love with him, he fell in love with me except he weren't ready to have a relationship. I thought it was over, had to get on with the rest of my life. He hurt me, but, I need him in my life." I'm reminded of the old advice of bein' best to rip a plaster off quickly. "I never stopped loving him."

"But you don't need me. You don't love me like that."

"No I don't. Sorry, I wish I'd never got involved with you, had waited 'n' I feel bad for any hurt caused. If I'm honest I think you could do better than me, someone…."

Tony half turns away from me, hands on his hips taking deep breaths. "You're good at pointing out the glaring aren't you." Any hope I had of him walking away are dashed when he turns back, the anger replaced by hurt. "At night school…. When you heard that poem… you were thinking of him..."

"Yes."

"Christ you haven't half used me have you. I always thought you were a decent person, funny, caring but I didn't know you at all. Knew something was going on but didn't think you were in love with someone else. A decent person would have told me if they were, not strung me along. It was a horrible thing to do. Really Molly at the end of the day you are just…"

Someone stands beside me, tears are starting to build in my eyes 'n' I don't immediately work out who it is but I have a strange sense of calm I'm not alone to deal with his. "I think that's enough don't you?" The voice of authority. His hand slips into mine, gently squeezing. It's as if he's tellin' me he's here for me. I squeeze back, keep up the pressure gettin' something from the comfort of it. "Thought I told you I'd get you upstairs." I whisper out the side of my mouth.

"Yes well, maybe we have that in common."

"What?" Naturally I take a step across towards him, waiting until we're connecting. Then I look up. Being rewarded with a smile, the one that crinkles his eyes and somehow makes my heart melt. God knows how he does it. Especially in a moment like this when I feel as if I'm bein' judged in a room full of almost strangers.

"Not following orders." His words are soft, humour behind them even though there's a part of him trying to reassure me.

It's the sound of a snort that brings my gaze back to the other man in front of me. Tony's face is ugly, screwed up. I did that to him. "Tony honest to god I am so so sorry, I really am."

"Save it." He snaps. "I've not heard anything yet that..."

"I think Molly has explained herself enough. You've only hurt your pride. You'll get over it." Charles tone is cold, the Sandhurst officer speaking to someone he only wants to motivate to leave the room.

"How the fuck do you think you know that?"

His free hand rubs the muscle at the back of his neck, a scary cold smile on his face, one which I can see has the right effect on Tony, his blue eyes shifting to the side as he feels the balance of power shifting away from him. "Because you left her. Today. When she wasn't well."

"Self bloody inflicted."

Charles shrugs, I know 'cause my hand lifts with his at the motion. "Because she was unhappy. If you'd loved her you would have gone after her and made sure she was okay. 2 minutes that's all it would have taken." If I was capable of speech I'd thank him, instead I look up at him, catching the rolling of his eyes as if he's remembered something. "You also wouldn't of given her a hard time about the fucking vulgar comment Smurf made." I'm surprised at the comment, I wasn't aware he was watching me when we were sittin' for the speeches. Not once I'd caught him looking at me, but he must have, caught the tension between Tony 'n' I. "Molly's Molly because she's lived life, every bad experience she's ever had and the few good ones she's had make her who she is. Nobody should try and change her or make her feel shit about any of it. Because she's perfect..."

"Steady on mate." I whisper under my breath. "Don't make it too bleedin' unbelievable."

I love the sound of his gentle laugh 'n' even though it's completely inappropriate a nervous giggle escapes 'n' I mould my body even more into his. Charles responds by putting his arm around my waist pulling me against him. He eventually tears his eyes away from me, kissing my forehead. "Maybe you need to grow up Toby."

It's in slow motion I feel the whoosh of air signalling a fist coming towards us, before I can even duck, a selfish need to protect myself even though I'm not the intended target Charles has swung me out of the way. His hands come up to my face, cradling my head as he watches me concerned. "Are you okay?"

I'd love to stay like this to have a moment but I need to see what's happened, if Tony's gonna' go for him again. A fear I need to protect Charles 'n' even to Tony to the mess I made. He eventually releases me, with a sigh, his hand moving to my hip but when I look there's four familiar frames standing in front of my ex. Containing him.

"I need to speak to him." I get the familiar raise of eyebrows, realisation from Charles he's not gonna' change my mind. His body taking a step away from me not looking down as I walk towards Tony. Even Brains, Smurf, Fingers and Dangles, our saviours don't look too happy when I stand to their side. Nervous. Though they all know I have previous for puttin' my foot in it.

"I am sorry Tony. 'N' if I had some of that hindsight shit I'd only ever have been friends with you. I know I made a mistake. But I'm making the right decision now, for me and for you." He's looking at the ground, not wanting to look at me. It's sad. "If you ever need anything, if I can ever help then feel free to find me. You have helped me 'n' I don't know what I would have done without you at times. Thank you."

I'm done. There's nothing more I want to say or want to hear. Turning towards Charles 'n' extending my hand out towards his. He takes it, a grin of relief down to me as we make our way together out the room. We don't even speak as we walk up the stairs. The only communication is glances down to me making my stomach clench, my heart flutter.

"You came back for me." I hear the wonder in my voice, resting my back against the closed hotel room door, biting my lip. "Thank you." It only takes 5 steps for him to reach me, to tip my chin up to make it easier for his mouth to come crashing against mine. The force of the kiss bashing our teeth together. I'm not ashamed of the groan I release into his mouth or how my hands find his arse and pull him into me. This time it's him who groans, pulling away from me.

His eyes are dark, almost black, a desire in them I've never seen before, never settling as they journey between my gaze 'n' my lips. "Don't thank me. It was selfish. I needed to make sure you didn't change your mind."

"Never. It'll always be you." There's a pleasurable burst of pain, his hands in my hair tugging my head back even further, his teeth grazing my neck and then….. A foreign sound of a giggle reaches my ears, stupidly I realise it's mine his mouth leaving my neck as he stares at me, confused. Already his lips look bruised. "Have you just given me a bleedin' love bite?" I ask, feeling that delicious sensation in the pit of my stomach I've not felt for nearly a year.

He lets out a loud bark of laughter, a blush of red making it's way across his cheek. I'm released briefly though it takes a few attempts for him to remove his hands from the tugs in my hair before his strong grip is placed on my hip, his thumbs stroking the lower part of my abdomen as he does. It's delightful. "Might of?" He tips his head to the side, a childishness to his bashfulness.

"I like it."

"Do you?"

"Yeah." I stroke his arms, feeling the bulge of muscle underneath my fingertips. He ain't half muscled up since the last time I saw him. "Though I can think of better places to have your mouth."

His adam's apple bounces a few times, he never breaks from looking at me, eventually dipping his mouth to my ear. "I think you might be wearing to many clothes for that." There's a second where we both stare, each of us biting our lips and then without a word we're frantically tearing our clothes off. Don't even ask how I make it to the bed. Watching, breathing rapidly as he lies beside me and both of us take the time to commit each part of our respective body to memory. About 2 seconds. "Are you sure?" His hand smooths a strand of hair behind my ear. "We don't need to rush anything." He pauses, grins, looking down at himself before raising one sardonic eyebrow. "Though I think it's a bit obvious I'm very keen?"

"I'm sure." My hand finds him, revelling in the soft hardness under my fingers 'n' also the sharp intake of breath, the instant darkening of his eyes. I want to remember this moment forever. Loving the feeling of his skin against mine. Watching as he makes a decision about what he's gonna' do next. The beautiful clearness behind his eyes displaying a look of lust painful in my gut. I know he's let go of a lot. Smiling at him reassuringly, receiving a cheeky wink in return I watch as his hand makes it's way down my body, my legs flopping open as I feel his fingers find the spot he was always so good at touching. His mouth does what I'd asked, pulling each nipple in turn between his teeth, my back arching up towards him. It doesn't take long for my core to start building, the gentle clenching lettin' me know I'm close if only he'd maybe touch a bit more to the left 'n' with a little bit more pressure, my hand finding it's way to rest on his, guide him, gettin' the perfect sensation. My head rolling back as I wait, patiently, trusting him 'n' then… I lift my head with shock, his hand making it's way back to my waist. A warm sweet mouth finds mine, ignores my body twisting to try and make eye contact find out what bloody happened. I'm so fucking close. "Charles." I plead or maybe it's more closer to a wail. His eyes pop open, surprised, then he bloody grins.

"Thought we could come together." Honest to god he's bloody amused at my reaction. His hips shifting until he's pressing against me. Well a certain part of his anatomy is 'n' it's one I'm quite fond of.

I sink back against the pillows pretending I'm in a bit of a huff. Answering with a fake sigh "I 'spose." He probably knows I ain't really pissed 'cause I've widened my legs even further 'n' my hands seem to be on his hips putting a fair bit of pressure on him. In my defence I am really a team player. "We don't need to worry about anything." Shyly hiding my face in his neck I let him know I'm on the pill.

"I didn't think I would." Apologetically he half smiles, keeping up the teasing his body is doin' to me. I wish he'd just hurry up. Mind you not too much 'cause it's still quite nice.

"No." I tilt my hips, grinning as I win the battle 'n' the tip of him slides in. A shiver of pleasure goin' through my body. "I never told him I was on anything… didn't want anyone else but you to be really inside me…." God it's hard to have a conversation when we're working so hard at him bein' inside me. "If you know what I mean? We always used….. "

"Christ Molly, that really turns me on for some reason."

"Bloody caveman."

He hisses, matching my exhalation of air as our bodies are finally joined together. His warm sweaty cheek resting against mine, his hips working hard beneath my splayed hands, the rhythm is perfect. He was talking shit when he said I was perfect, this is perfect; nothing else. There's something about the hotel room, a security, freedom to be ourselves, the reassuring sound of the headboard hitting the wall. Leave all our problems outside. It's bliss 'n' I ain't ashamed of the tear rolling down my face. Especially when tenderly his thumb catches it, his other hand coming up to my face to catch the falling one from my other eye. "I love you." his mouth finds mine immediately meaning I can't say it back, also I suppose showing he's strong enough now not to need the reassurance I do. Removing one of my hands he brings it down between our bodies. "Do you want to or will I?"

"You. Please."

The pace is slowed down for an instant, one of his hands taking both of my wrists in their grasp and pinning them above my head before I feel the caress of his fingers making their way down my body. A featherlight touch. His eyes watching for my reaction. Picking up the previous hard movement of his groin. I groan, pushing my hips up. Welcoming the feeling of his touch. He doesn't need my guidance, I now know he was toying with me earlier, warming me up, waiting for the main event 'cause this time there's no doubt of the outcome. "Shit Molly I'm so close." I bite my lip, not answering, clinging onto all the wonder floating through my body, I can't even tell him it's happening but he must know, the tremor inside me so strong he must feel it. Battling against the need to close my eyes, to savour every single delightful quiver. I force them open. Rewarded with the sight of Charles, his face pained with pleasure 'n' with surprise I feel another gentler ripple starting somewhere deep inside. This is the best shag of my whole life.

"You okay?" His skin is covered with a sheen of sweat, sticking to me, unfortunately not permanently 'cause I'd be alright with that, resting his weight on his elbow tenderly looking at me.

My hands find their way to his hair, tugging at the curls bringing his head closer. I love there's a query in his question. Like how the fuck could I not be alright after that. Honest to god they're tears of happiness. He must know? "I love you."

"I've missed you." His lips catch my falling tears this time. "Realised what a monumental mistake I'd made a week later. Forced me to see someone because I wanted, needed to make it work for us. It's been a long journey, I'm not sure I've even finished it yet. Part of me is still….." There's a gentleness to his kiss as he gives up whatever he was gonna' say. "I never want to live without you again. I'd do anything to make you happy."

My hand strokes his jaw line, feeling the rough stubble. "That's good 'cause I don't half fancy a cuppa' tea."

"Fuck off Dawes."

I love the feelin' of happiness inside of me, only the thought of him 'n' I for the rest of our lives. "I thought about you everyday, would still dream about you. They never went. Do you believe now I don't care if you're damaged." I complete his previous partial sentence for him. "Or we're gonna' have tough times, as long as you're in my life mate alright? We can make it work." I shift, lying on my side watching him as he rests on his elbow. "Cause I need you..."

"I am, 100% by your side" He interrupts, a seriousness to him as he watches me.

"I was gonna' say over there puttin' the kettle on but I'll accept that." I laugh, a fully belly snort suddenly finding myself underneath him as he locates my tickly bits, giving surprising mercy at my pleads for him to stop. "We're gonna' be alright ain't we?"

He gives the question some thought, eventually tenderly touching our noses together, his voice confident. "Yes, we're gonna' be alright."

 _Prologue_

I'm moving as fast as I can along the draughty hall. A irrational sense of panic building inside of me. There's no sound of anything coming from the kitchen which is unusual. I'm not even sure if the sound of a chair scraping against the stone floor happened or whether I'm trying to persuade myself it did. I'm like a bat out of hell, a recently given birth 'n' aching in places I never thought possible, but nonetheless bat out of hell as I walk round the door 'n' instantly relax.

The love I feel for the two in front of me greater than anything in the whole world. He's sleeping, a rare sight for the tiny form from this particular week old baby. Tucked into the neck of his father as Charles paces up and down the kitchen. Softly humming an old nursery rhyme, even with my dramatic entrance he hasn't heard me, unaware of my presence.

It gives me a few moments. Time to lean against the worktop 'n' reflect on the last 5 years. It ain't always been easy. Times when I've wondered if we would make it. The occasional mood swing, so debilitating to him from generally something so small but which would make him question himself, sink into a time when all he was surrounded by was darkness. Eventually I learned with time to give him space, a few metres anyway, enough for him to be reassured he wasn't affecting me but when he was ready I was there. For him. We were right. We had made it work.

"Hey you okay?"

Lifting my head I see Charles making his way towards me, I give him a watery grin. These moods swings ain't half a bitch. Nodding my head trying to remove the worry line etched in the centre of his forehead. "I'm good, maybe panicked a bit when that one weren't there."

Charles' hand comes up, pulling me towards him as he places a kiss on my hair. There's the delicious mingling of scents, the man and the baby, my arms going around his waist as I get as close as I can to them. "Careful he'll smell you." He's right, there's a whimpering, but thanks to the empty bottle on the table nothing more and with relief the small body settles again. "Couldn't bear to be apart from you. Pulled a sickie." Pulling out of the embrace I look up at him. Giving him a reassuring smile. We both know the only reason he agreed to us having a kid was to make me happy. You couldn't fail to notice the fear behind his eyes as the date got closer 'n' closer, my body gettin' bigger and bigger. "I'm glad you wanted a baby." It's a testament to the strength of the man he can say that. Even pulling out of an exercise to get home and be with us knowing it weren't gonna' go down well.

"I'm glad you let me. And I'm glad you're back"

Gently he kisses me, scared I'll break. He's too late I broke in a hospital bed pushing Tom out. I'll never be the same. "You look tired. I thought you could do with some kip. Though don't underestimate the strength it needed for me not to climb in beside the pair of you."

"We could go back up, together." I've maybe not conveyed exactly how pleased I am to see him. He'd only left this afternoon and I'd been gutted. Even Judy patting me on the hand 'n' telling me to give it a few months 'n' I'd have the bunting out whenever he went on exercise hadn't raised much of a smile. And not that I'd tell Charles but I'd rushed up to our temporary bedroom with our son in my arms 'n' watched out the window as his car had disappeared. Feelin' as if I'd lost part of me. "The bed will still be warm."

"Sold. Come on." He takes my hand, pulling me out the warm kitchen, retracing my steps except this time I'm happier, more contented.

I'm handed my son when we reach the bedroom, even though I ain't ever having sex again I watch Charles getting undressed, appreciating him as I always do. The last week showing their emotional effect as even he can't be bothered folding his uniform, his combats discarded on the floor as he pulls the bedding back 'n' motions for me to climb in first.

We've developed a system, one which takes into account the baby who won't sleep anywhere except on myself or if I'm out the room Charles, arranging the pillows so we're both semi-upright. Tom nuzzles against my skin as one of us at least sleeps. I can't help but kiss his head, breathing in the smell of newborn baby. When the light is switched off, I shift slightly into the space Charles has created for me with his arm. I feel the flutter of his breath on my head, the contented sigh making me smile. "If we open the curtains, we could always watch the sunrise." He asks, his head angled towards the gleam of grey light flitting through the gap.

"Yeah I'd like that."

When the bed dips again, signalling his return I smile, a genuine beam and feel the flurry of happiness which I'm blessed to feel so often in life. Maybe knowing such despair makes you appreciate the good times but I'm not gonna' analyse it to much, instead finding my place again beside him and relishing the feel of his body. "I've still got the pebble." He doesn't answer me, his body stilling. "Kept it safe for you. Maybe we could put something on it, you know our initials, Sam and Tom's initials. I dunno…"

"How fucking big is the stone? Because from memory.."

I place a kiss against his chest, accidently brushing my lips against his nipple. Feeling his chest rise 'n' fall with laughter. There's a tone of defiance to my answer. "Not that big but we could write small."

"Or when Tom's bigger we could all collect a stone for everyone, make it a tradition. That pebble was only for you Mrs James."

"I love that idea." This time my lips find the sensitive spot on his neck. "Makes me realise why I adore you." The taste of his skin a sweet saltiness as I pull the skin into my teeth, listening to his guttural groan.

"Dawes. Play fair."

"Shit sorry, bloody habit."

"Yes well don't break the habit just have a break from it for, I don't know, another 5 weeks at most."

"5 weeks, no bloody chance. 5 years possibly." I answer with disgust.

My resounding memory of the two of us has always been that morning in Afghan before it all went to shit, when there was still a vestige of innocence in the world. Now, cuddled into him, the soft snores of the life we made as the sun slowly rises filling the room. I think I've made a new one. Especially when he plays me at my own game, his thumb stroking my lip, the way he knows I love, a cheeky glint in his eyes as brings his lips to mine, this time there ain't anything gentle about it. He's making a point. One which my body grudgingly reacts to. It ain't fair. "Okay possibly 5 months."

"Good but feel free to lower the time limit at any point."

"Christ I love you."

"Ditto."

 _ **The End**_

 **Thank you very much for sticking with this story I know it hasn't been easy at times and I have pushed the boundaries of angst! There have been so many people who have helped me and as this is going to be the last story from me - I really need to get on with real life and don't think I've got anything original left - I'd like to take a moment to appreciate everyone. First of all everyone who has taken the time to read, sometimes when I have my horrendous doubts I click on the reader stats and knowing even one person out there has clicked on the story gives me the motivation to continue. The people who have reviewed, I know it's not the easiest thing to do but the words of guidance and support are wonderful to receive and I really appreciate the time and thought put into them.**

 **And then of course there's my friends who have answered questions, given me thoughts, read draft after draft and put up with my neediness. Thought up song titles, picked me up when I've been down - the list has been endless. Thank you I couldn't have done it without you :-D So Jen, Lana, Natalie, Emma, Bea, Mikki - round of applause to you.**


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